


What Should Have Been

by belle1316



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prince Gendry Waters, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22097047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belle1316/pseuds/belle1316
Summary: As enemies threaten to rise in the East, King Robert wishes to secure his son, Prince Gendry's, seat on the Iron Throne through marriage to his old friend's daughter Arya Stark.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 176
Kudos: 523





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I had originally put on fanfiction so it might seem familiar to some, but I am making some changes here and there and taking it in another direction than I had originally intended. I hope everyone enjoys.

It was a particularly warm day in Winterfell. Shouts and the sound of clashing wooden swords floated up from the training yard to where Arya Stark sat at her window. 

She watched as Bran and Rickon sparred, wincing every time one of them made a mistake.  _ Idiots,  _ she thought. 

“My lady, your lord father wishes to speak with you,” a handmaiden said behind her. 

“Thank you,” Arya replied still looking out the window longingly at the training yard. It had been so long since she had ventured out there and truly trained with anyone. 

With a sigh, Arya left the window and started across the castle to her father’s solar. 

The door was already open when she arrived.

She stood in the doorway, smiling at the sight of her father hunched over his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“You asked for me.” She said, making her presence known. 

“Yes, come here, sweet girl.”  He looked up from a set of papers and smiled. 

Arya entered the room, closing the door behind her. 

“You already know the entire royal family is making its way up here as we speak. The king has two sons. Your mother, of course, wishes for you to wed one of them.”

“Of course she does.” Arya did not like the idea of marriage, in fact, she opposed it. 

She did not want to be a lady, she wanted to be a warrior, an explorer. She wanted more. However, when she turned fourteen and bled for the first time, she began to put up less of a fight. She could run away or put up fit after fit, but what good would it do? 

As long as she could continue her training, she did not care what else was forced on her. She had told her father to wait, as long as he could before marrying her off. She had told her mother that she would compromise where she could when it came to her lessons. She decided she would try to do both, be the lady and the warrior. 

Three years later, at seventeen, it seemed the dreaded day had come. It was worse than she thought, the princes of Westeros meant that she could be Queen. The thought terrified her. All of the responsibility and eyes that would be on her, made her want to run beyond the wall. Arya sighed as she sat across from her father. She reached over to grab some of the account papers he had yet to get to. 

“You’ve always known this day would come.” Her father said, handing her a quill. 

“Yes, I have.” She replied. “Will I have a choice, at least?”

Her father nods.“I’ll do my best.” 

Arya purses her lips.

Lord Stark sat back in his chair with his hand poised near his mouth. Arya could feel him studying her. “Talk to me child.”

“I’m just tired.” Arya sighs. She looked over the numbers on the pages, making corrections where it was needed. She was always good with numbers.“Resigned to my fate, I suppose.”

Her father chuckled. “You’re mother will be glad to hear that.”

“Don’t worry,” She smirked. “I haven’t given up entirely on running away.”

“Good to know.”

Arya stayed in her father’s solar for a few hours. They looked through the papers and scrolls that littered his desk. It was a ritual the two had every week since she turned fourteen. She was the best with numbers in the family and she was creative. She could solve problems, quickly.

Her mother said it was the mark of a true lady. Arya rolled her eyes at that. Her mother was convinced that her unruly daughter was becoming the lady that she and her sister Sansa were. 

But it was not the tasks that Arya enjoyed, it was spending time with her father. Her father, who had a naturally calming presence, would listen to her and indulge her in her fantasies of freedom. He allowed her to go hunting, to spar in the yard, he watched her shoot arrows from the battlements and even acquired a Bravosi swordsman named Syrio to train her in a fighting style that would suit her. 

But with all that, it was this time spent in Lord Stark’s solar, looking over accounts and correspondence that Arya felt closest to her father. He was a man of little words and with his youngest daughter, he was always direct and honest. Arya sometimes thought that if she had been born a man, her father would have named her heir to Winterfell. Not that she wanted it and Robb would make a good lord. 

When she finally left the lord’s solar, she was immediately cornered by her mother. 

“Oh Arya, has your father talked with you, yet?”

Arya rolled her eyes.  _ As if she didn’t know. _ “Yes, mother.” 

“Good, then you know the King comes with the intention to betroth you to one of his sons.” 

“Yes.” Arya picked up her pace to walk ahead of her mother.

“Arya,” her mother pulled her back and placed her hands on her shoulders. “I know this was never your dream. But you could be surprised by how things turn out. You could fall in love or at the very least you’ll be Queen. You would be in a position to do good for your people, make your own rules.”

Arya was taken aback by her mother’s earnest expression. She had only ever shown frustration when it came to Arya’s lack of enthusiasm for marriage and ladylike pursuits. 

“Family, duty, honor.”She recited her mother’s words, not knowing how else to respond to her mother’s tenderness. 

It was enough apparently as her mother raised her hand to caress her face. “Winter is coming. Gods help King’s Landing if it does.”

Arya gave her lady mother a true smile.

* * *

Gendry sighed as he guided his horse up another hill. He looked behind him to see his younger brother Tommen hanging out the window, drooping on the side of the carriage. The month-long ride North had taken a toll on all of them it seemed. 

“The air is so dry up here,” Joffrey complained. 

Gendry rolled his eyes. “You prefer the air to smell like shit, like back home.”

“It doesn’t have to smell, just have some moisture. And this bloody wind keeps slapping me in the face.”

“Praise the wind,” Gendry muttered to himself. His younger brother had been getting on his nerves the whole way up, especially when he had to go in and drag him out of brothels so that they could continue their journey. Even their father wasn’t as bad as he was. 

“You know, I pity you brother.” Joffrey took a sip from a flagon he had strapped to his belt. “We have to come up here to marry you off to some cold Northern shrew.”

Gendry rolled his eyes. “Since that’s the case, I'll ask you not to speak of my future wife in such a manner.”

“Aw, how chivalrous.” Joffrey mocked. 

“Gendry!”

Their father’s voice boomed from a few yards ahead. Gendry dug his heels into his horse to spur it on. He lined his horse into step with his father’s. 

“Yes, your grace.”

“Hold on, stop right here.”

Father and son stopped their horses on top of another hill. There nestled at the end of a stretch of rolling hills covered in light snow, sat a grand stone castle that seemed endless. 

“There it is, Winterfell.”

Gendry took in the fierce structure. The towers were rounded off, there were no sharp edges like at the Red Keep. The stone walls were simple, no intricate architecture. It was sturdy, imposing, and impressive. 

“People are different here, lad. Don’t expect cheering and warm welcomes.” His father warns him. “They may seem harsh, stoic, but they are good people underneath. They’re an honorable lot, loyal. The Starks more than any of them.”

“I look forward to meeting them,” Gendry said, honestly. He, like the rest of his generation, had grown up on stories of his father and Eddard Stark fighting alongside each other, brothers in arms. 

“Now, the girl Arya, I don’t know much about her. Ned says she is like her aunt, which means pretty words will do nothing to win her. She will be a woman of action and she will judge you on your treatment of others.”

Gendry, who was used to his father’s boisterous drunk state, was surprised by his somber tone. 

“I’ve heard the common folk in these villages talk, they call her a she-wolf. You need that boy. She-wolves are strong and fierce. They’re loyal. They have good instincts. If what I’m hearing about the Targaryens across the sea you’ll need someone strong. You’ll need a she-wolf to stand by you as queen.”

A realization came upon Gendry as he listened to his father’s words. “That’s why you turned down, everyone else.” 

“I can’t trust those in the south. They’re all after something. Northerners don’t care for politics.” 

They sat upon their horses for a moment more, staring down at Winterfell. 

“Well, then let’s get to it.” His father clapped him on the shoulder before urging his horse forward. 

Gendry stayed in his spot a while longer. His eyes stayed on the castle before him. He watched as smoke was released from chimneys and could barely make out signs of the inhabitants starting their days. 

The rest of the caravan was beginning to pass him up. He thought of his father’s words and held a sense of anticipation in his stomach. 

The next phase of his life would begin here. He only hoped he was ready for it. 


	2. Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King arrives and Arya and Gendry see each other for the first time. Ned and Robert Talk.

The procession was spotted and chaos ensued. Arya was forced into a grey dress that was covered in jewels on the bodice with a plain silk skirt. 

“Mother, this isn’t practical. My cloak will cover most of it.” 

Arya fidgeted with the neck of the dress. If the dress slipped in the wrong direction, the jewels would move and reveal more than Arya was willing to reveal.

“Oh hush, the Queen and princess are known to wear lavish styles. It’s what the princes will expect to see.” 

Arya looked at herself in the mirror. “I look awkward. I thought I agreed to something simple.”

“You look beautiful.” Her mother went over to the table where a maid had laid out some crowns and bands. 

“Please mother, the dress already has so many jewels, I don’t need anymore in my hair. It would look too gaudy.”

Her mother studied her for a moment. “Hmm, It may be that you’re right. We’ll do your hair in a bun.”

Arya sighed, as her mother found a silver ribbon to tie her hair up. Her eyes found her wolf Nymeria’s. The wolf’s head tilted to one side, finding her person looking strange out of her usual muddy boots and long tunics. 

“Alright, you’re done.” Her mother turned her around by her shoulders. She met her Tully blue eyes. 

“Try your best not to mess up my work.”

Arya nodded. Lady Stark smiled and made her way out of the room to oversee the preparations of the rest of the castle. 

As soon as she was sure her mother was out of sight, Arya reached behind her and tugged the ribbon out of her hair, letting it fall in waves past her shoulder. 

“Arya!” 

Arya turned to see her youngest brother Rickon bouncing in the doorway. She held out her arms, signaling for the young boy to run to her. 

“What is it?”

“Bran said you’re going to be queen.” Rickon pouted as he stomped into her open arms. 

Arya felt her stomach drop. “Maybe.”

“I don’t want you to be a queen. We’re supposed to go beyond the wall, like wildlings.”

Arya patted her brother’s unruly curls. “I know we always said that. You, me, and Jon. But plans change and nothing’s certain. The prince may decide he prefers some blonde flower instead of me.” She spoke more to herself. 

“Why would he want a flower?” Rickon asked, still at the age where everything was literal. 

“Is everyone decent in here?” Jon’s voice floated in from the hall. 

“When have I ever been decent?” Arya jokes. Jon walked into the room with an amused expression. 

“The procession is moving through Wintertown now, approaching the gates. Father wants everyone down there.”

Arya gestured for Rickon to bring her the cloak that was draped on the bed. She fastened it on her shoulders. 

“Oh, do you think the Imp will be there.” Rickon bounced over to Jon. 

“You’re the Imp.” Arya ruffled the young boy’s hair again as passed him on her way to the door.

Jon followed, holding on to Rickon’s hand. 

“How do you feel?” Jon askes as they made their way outside to the battlements.

“A little like a show horse about to be put up for auction.” 

“A very sparkly show horse.” Jon laughed, looking at her dress.

Arya shoved her brother causing him to almost step over Rickon. 

“Oye, if you try to charm the prince like that, then you may have nothing to worry about.”

The three of them met their other two brothers on their way to the courtyard where Lord and Lady Stark already stood. 

“Rickon, come stand next to me.” Her mother said, holding her hand out to her youngest. Her gaze turned cold when it landed on Jon. “Go stand behind us with Theon.”

Jon clenched his jaw but bowed. Arya gave him a sympathetic smile. If there was ever anything she could truly never tolerate about her mother, it was the way she treated Jon. Sure, it was strange to think of her father loving anyone else but her mother but Jon was blood, he was family. Jon could not help the circumstances of his birth. He had proven himself time and again as being loyal to all of them and yet her mother still treated him so coldly. 

Passing quickly so her mother would not say a word about her hair, Arya went to stand between Robb and Bran. 

“Don’t you look like a pretty lady, little sister,” Robb whispered. 

“Shut up,” she elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Enough,” Her father’s used his lordly voice. 

The rest of their men fell in line behind them. Arya felt a knot form in her stomach. She kept her eyes to the ground until she heard the creaking of the gates. Two members of the King’s guard road in first wearing gold and ivory cloaks. They were followed by a man around her father’s age with black hair speckled with grey. He had a strong build, only slightly overweight. Out the side of her eye, she saw her father bend to his knee. The rest of the courtyard soon followed. Arya bowed her head. She could hear the procession continue to make their way through the gates. She registered the heavy crunch of boots on the snow. There was silence in the courtyard before Arya could feel Robb rising next to her, Arya rose up with him and lifted her head. 

“You’ve gotten fat.” The King grumbled at her father. 

Lord Stark gave him a pointed look before both men broke out into laughter. 

_ Men.  _ Arya fought the urge to roll her eyes. The King went to hug her mother and patted Rickon on the head. Arya looked behind the King to see a young man with black hair making his way to a carriage. 

“And this is my youngest daughter, Arya.” 

Her father’s voice brought her eyes back to the king. She bowed as the king breathed in. 

“It’s like looking into the past.” He said as she rose. His initial expression was the same as any of her father’s old friends when they met her as if they saw a ghost. The king took her hand and Arya had to fight the impulse to yank her hand away. His gaze was heavy on her face. Arya bit her tongue.

“Has anyone told you about your aunt Lyanna?”He asked. 

Arya pursed her lips. “Yes, your grace. They say I am her reincarnate, but I wouldn’t know enough about her to agree.”

The King stared at her a moment longer before someone cleared their throat. He blinked as he was jerked out of his stupor by a tall, blonde woman, who Arya surmised was the Queen. 

“Forgive me, child, I lost myself for a moment.” He dropped her hand. 

She bowed as Cersei Lannister’s eyes fell on her. 

“Did you not have another daughter?” The woman’s smooth voice was directed at her mother.

“Yes, Sansa married Loras Tyrell of Highgarden just last year.”

“Oh, yes of course.” The Queen smiled. 

“Gendry!” The King shouted. “Gendry, boy come here.”

The young man that Arya had noticed earlier, came forward on the other side of the King to stand almost directly in front of her. He was handsome, she had to admit. She had to crane her head to look up at him. Seeing him stand side by side with the king, gave Arya an idea of what the king would have looked like in his prime. They shared almost all the same features, black hair, blue eyes, possibly the same build if the king got off the boar and wine. 

“You can meet the others later, but this is my eldest Gendry.” The King said, clapping his son on his shoulders. 

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Stark. I have heard nothing but wonderful things about the North, I am glad to finally see it.”

“Prince Gendry,” Her father bowed his head. “Welcome to Winterfell. I hope you enjoy your stay here.”

“I am sure I will.” He said, smiling at Arya. She gave him a tight-lipped smile in return.

“Take me down to the crypts Ned, I want to pay my respects.” 

Her father nodded and gestured for the King to follow him in the direction of the crypts.

The queen stood in front of her mother. “If it’s not too much trouble, Lady Stark, the younger children are famished. I was hoping we could find them something to eat before dinner this evening.”

“Of course,” Her mother smiled. “Arya, dear, would you show Prince Gendry to where he and his family will be staying for their stay.”

Arya looked to Robb, who was staring down at their mother as if she had grown another head. Not that Arya cared much for propriety, but she didn’t think escorting a man who she wasn’t even betrothed to yet, to his bedchambers was appropriate. Yet, no one said a thing.

She locked eyes with her mother’s stern gaze. 

“If it would please the prince.” She replied with a raised eyebrow. 

“It would please me greatly.” 

Arya almost jumped when she saw a hand reach out in front of her. She hadn’t realized the prince was standing so close to her. She looked him up and down, taking in the charming smile that made his eyes crinkle. 

She could have scoffed. Arya ignored the hand he held out to her, keeping her hands folded in front of her, which only seemed to amuse him. 

“The best entrance is around the corner. It’s a short walk.”

“Lead the way, my lady.” 

* * *

“Damn, think what could have been, Ned,” Robert whispered. His hand cradled the face of Lyanna Stark’s statue. The king almost smiled at some memory he was able to conjure up. 

“I try not to.” Lord Stark kept his eyes at his feet. 

“In my dreams, I kill him every night,” Robert growled, his hand dropping from the statue. 

Ned sighed. “It’s done, your grace. The Targaryens are gone.” 

“Not all of them.”

“They are no harm to you now.”

“And what about my son.” Robert turned to Ned. “Gendry will make a damn good king. I’m a shit father and a shit king, but my son deserves that throne. I’ll see he gets it, that he has a peaceful reign.”

Ned nodded his head.“I am certain he will, Robert.” 

“I wish you could be down there with me Ned. We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we would have been bound by blood. It’s not too late. Gendry needs a strong queen and if your daughter is how you describe her, she’ll be perfect.”

Ned hesitated. He thought of his daughter, who in recent years tried to adapt to her title a bit more, but Ned could see the longing in her eyes. The longing to be left to her own devices. She would be a perfect queen, but she was not meant for it. Arya was meant to be free. “Robert, Arya. She’s not… She’s not meant for King’s Landing. I promised her, she could choose.”

“She’s the one you love the most.” Robert smiled. “She reminds you of Lya. We’re not supposed to have our favorites, but Gendry’s mine.”

“I…,” Ned was prepared to deny the accusation but fell short. It was true. Arya was his favorite and he couldn’t bear to part with her. She did have a similar spirit that his sister had, but Arya was her own person. Perhaps he indulged her too much when he hired Syrio to train her. 

Yet, the pride he felt when she could best the men in the training yard, was unmeasurable. She understood things that Lyanna never had the maturity to understand. Arya understood the realities of the world in a way many never could. It didn’t mean she agreed with it, but she understood. He knew she would always leave home, one way or another, and it seemed like the day was nearing.

Robert placed his hand on his shoulder.“You want her to have a choice. She’ll choose Gendry. He’s a good man.”

Ned sighed. Who was he to argue with the King?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I appreciate all the responses. I am working on the spacing issues, let me know if this chapter is better in regards to that. I really did not expect to get such a response this first week, so that's amazing. Thank you. I hope you all continue to enjoy.


	3. Ch. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya speaks with Gendry and Joffrey.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones. 

Gendry could not contain the smile on his face. Arya Stark turned out to be the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her eyes were like steel and seemed to pierce through him. Most ladies he encountered would bat their eyes and smile like little coquettes, but Arya Stark studied him with indifference. He supposed his father was right about the Northerners and their stern ways. 

Gendry didn’t have much experience with women other than when they tried to throw themselves at him for a chance to gain power. He usually shut down women’s advances right away, but this Arya Stark would prove to be a challenge just by the way she glanced at the hand he had offered and then turned away, rejecting him. 

A challenge was what Gendry wanted, he realized. It’s what he had been waiting for. He had been waiting for a woman who was confident enough in herself that she knew she did not need to turn herself into a simpering fool to gain what she wanted. He wondered what Arya wanted. What did she dream of?

She was just a few steps ahead of him, though he had large strides, she was a quick little thing. 

“Lady Arya, I must say you have a beautiful home.” He huffed out, trying to keep up with her.

She looked over her shoulder for a moment but continued walking at her pace.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“My favorite stories growing up, were always ones about the North.” He said, honestly. “Tales of the White Walkers and wargs and magic. The North has a fascinating history.”

They rounded a corner when Arya suddenly stopped. Gendry nearly toppled over her. He murmured his apology as she turned to face him.

“The entrance is here.” She gestured to the dark passageway they stood in front of. 

“Once you reach the end of this hall there will be some doors to the right, followed by some stairs, and that is the hall of chambers in which you and your family shall stay.” 

“Won’t you escort me further in, my lady?”

“It would not be proper.” She responded in a clipped tone.

“Do you really care about the propriety or is it the dark that frightens you?”

Gendry’s smirk deepened as Arya’s mouth fell open. 

“It’s fine, my lady, my baby sister has the same fear. Your secret is safe with me.”

“You-” She pressed her lips together and Gendry found himself wishing she hadn’t caught herself. She then gathered her skirts in two tight little fists and pursed her lips. 

“Fine.” She brushed past him, allowing Gendry to pick up the scent of winter roses. 

Warmth enveloped Gendry as he followed her into the hall. The inside of the castle was unexpectedly warm given the cold outside and stone walls. 

He took a moment to admire the carvings in the wall of direwolves and trees. They were subtle but Gendry had always been able to catch the little details like that. 

When he looked up again he saw that Arya was already about to round the corner. 

He jogged a few paces to catch up with her. 

"The details in the wall are really just-"

"Here we are," Arya cut him off. She gestured to a small flight of stairs leading to a set of engraved wooden doors. Gendry sighed at her firm tone. 

"Unless you need help up the stairs, your grace."

Gendry smiled and shook his head, "No, my lady."

"Very well then." Arya gave him a nod followed by a sloppy curtsy. Gendry bowed to her in return. Before he could rise, Arya had already turned and began making her way back down the hall. Gendry sighed again as he watched her turn the corner, grey skirts fluttering behind her.

He wouldn't get to her in a day, he realized. She had barely given him a chance to speak. It would be difficult to make his intentions known. She clearly already had her mind made up about something, about what, he did not completely know. But he hoped he could break through whatever barrier she had enough to see if they could become something. Gendry knew he needed to be married and Arya Stark was the first woman to ever capture his attention. He would not force himself on her if she truly wanted to be left alone, but he couldn't just let her slip through his fingers either. 

* * *

Arya rolled her eyes at Theon who was currently sliding his hand lower on some maid's back. 

The feast had been going on for an hour at least. Arya had been able to avoid the open seat between the Princes and sat next to her brother Bran. Now that Robb had risen to dance with some Karstark or other, her mother gracefully rose to take the now empty seat next to her daughter.

Arya shifted in her seat, preparing for whatever onslaught her mother delivered. How she wished she could be riding through the forest with Nymeria.

" How did your walk with Prince Gendry go earlier?" Her mother asked plastering a fake smile on her face. 

"Fine," Arya replied not even half-heartedly.

“Well, he can’t stop looking at you.”

Arya glanced at her mother for a moment before looking over at the end of the table. She was immediately met by Prince Gendry’s blue eyes. Arya was taken aback by how bright they looked from the other side of the table. What surprised her more was that he did not look away when she found that he was staring at her. Not one to be intimidated, Arya kept her gaze firmly on his. Those stupid blue eyes glinted as he raised his cup to her, a smirk growing on his face. 

Arya fought back a huff of irritation. 

“My lady Arya,”

Arya gladly looked away from Prince Gendry’s infuriating gaze to see who addressed her, only to be disappointed. 

“I wonder if my lady would honor me with a dance,” Prince Joffrey smiled down at her. Arya held her breath at the intense smell of ale that wafted from his being. 

“Oh, of course, she would.” Lady Catelyn clapped her hands like a gleeful child. Arya glared over her shoulder at her mother who only shrugged and then gestured for her to rise. 

Arya sighed. It was enough that she had had to deal with the oldest Prince this morning and now, here was the other one. Before she knew it, Tommen who could have not been more than ten would come prancing up to her. 

She knew this day would come. She thought she had prepared herself, but the reality of it was all too much. 

She was about to come up with some fib of an ailing foot when she caught sight of Prince Gendry again. 

His light eyes that had irritated her with their teasing, arrogant nature had darkened considerably. She realized that his gaze was fixed on his brother. She looked to Prince Joffrey again to see him wink at his brother, which only seemed to infuriate him as he slammed the cup of ale he had raised to Arya only a moment earlier on the table, causing it to shake and turning a head or two. 

_ Interesting _ . 

Arya was not interested in any game or rivalry the two brothers seemed to have for each other. However, this was the first time she had seen the Crown Prince ruffled in any way. If dancing with his brother would make Prince Gendry as annoyed as he had made her this whole day then she would consider justice to be served. 

Arya tossed her hair over her shoulder and put on what she hoped was a flirtatious smile.

“I would be honored to dance with you, my prince.”

Joffrey grinned back at her as she took his hand. She allowed him to lead her out to the middle of the hall that had been cleared for dancing. Robb raised an eyebrow at her as she passed before spinning Alys Karstark around to create a space for her and Joffrey. The prince turned to face her, placing his hand on the middle of her back and raising the joined hands. Arya placed her hand on his shoulder just as he began to lead her into the dance.

“Well,” he sighed. “How are you enjoying the festivities, my lady.”

“Just fine, your grace.” She replied.

Joffrey nodded.

“I’m going to be frank with you now, Stark.” 

Arya arched an eyebrow.

“I know our families expect either me or my brother to marry you, “He continued. “And you’re pleasant enough to look at and all but I’m not the marrying kind. Oh, I know my father will force me to marry at some point but from what I’ve heard about you, we would just drive each other mad.” 

Arya was surprised and pleasantly so. It seemed she had worried about having to fend the two princes off, but now…

“I appreciate the honesty.” She said, “It takes some of the stress of this visit away.”

“Of course,” Joffrey spun her around before swaying them again. “I never try to mislead anyone. Besides, I respect you, Starks, up here, truly I do, with all your morals and honorable principles. I simply enjoy brothels and ale far too much to ever truly be loyal to one woman.”

Arya glanced over his shoulder to see his father, the King, practically burying his face in the bosom of some servant while his wife sat a few seats away. 

“It’s in the Baratheon nature I suppose.” 

“No,” Joffrey slowed them down so that they were practically standing in the middle of the floor. “Gendry is different. He’s never set foot in a brothel or house and tonight is the first time he’s had ale in months. He just spends all his free time playing and feeding orphans and working in the forge.”

“The forge?” Arya asked. What was the future King of Westeros doing in a forge? 

Joffrey nodded, “He likes to make weapons. Father humors him because Gendry made him a war hammer once, not that he ever uses it.” He gave a mirthless chuckle, “ I give my brother a lot of shit. I’m an ass most of the time and he’s the one that cleans up my messes. He’ll be a good King and a good husband.”

He looked off to the side, seemingly lost in thought. He blinked and then looked directly into her eyes. “If your father has given you a choice in who you marry. You should choose Gendry. He’s a good man. He’s the best anyone could get.”

Arya took in Joffrey’s sobered expression. She realized now how much she had misinterpreted the situation. Not only was Prince Joffrey not interested in marrying her but here he was speaking of his brother almost fondly and telling her to choose him. 

“Thank you,” She said, at a loss for any other words. 

“I mean in, truly. Give him a chance.” A smirk returned to his face, “And you can start by dancing with him now.”

Before Arya could reply, Joffrey pulled back and spun her around, almost making her slam into Gendry’s chest. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry takes a chance with Arya. Robert and Ned talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all the responses to Joffrey. I really did want to take Joffrey and Cersei in different directions. They are still very much flawed but it’s a very interesting what-if scenario. Gendry would be Cersei’s black-haired firstborn, so with her first child never dying what would her life had been like. She’s still sad, but more on that later. For Joffrey, he is not the firstborn, he is not the heir. So was never the pressure and never the idea that he was going to be king, but he still comes from a life of privilege and still wants to do whatever he wants. In this story, he is more of the fuck up brother who always gets stuck in situations. I did not make him evil, but he does sleep around and has jerk moments here and there and Gendry is usually the one picking up the slack (so kind of a typical spoiled prince minus the psychotic, violent tendencies). However, Joffrey does love his brother and wants to see him happy. The whole thing with Arya and being Gendry’s “wingman” is Joffrey doing something nice for his brother and not expecting to get any recognition or anything because he knows Gendry only sees him as the fuck up, and I hope you see some of that in this chapter. I am loving the questions and comments. I thank everyone who reads this little story of mine.

Gendry was furious. Joffrey knew. Joffrey knew that Arya was the first woman to ever pique his interest. He had sat in the corner of his room, while Gendry fussed with his jerkin, making comments about Gendry blushing like a young maid.

So, Joffrey fucking knew Gendry liked her, how nervous he was for tonight, and he still swooped in. He didn’t know why he expected anything else.

Joffrey was just like their father, he couldn’t seem to keep his cock in his pants, fucking anything in a skirt. Gendry had endured enough teasing about his own lack of… activity. Yet, he was the one who would drag Joffrey out of brothels and whore houses and would save his arse when he fucked the wrong Lord’s wife or daughter or sister (hell, Joff had even fucked someone’s mother once).

With all that, Gendry assumed Joffrey respected him enough to not go after the one woman he was ever interested in.

“You know he’s just doing it to get a rise out of you.”

Gendry turned and smiled at his mother as she sat beside him.

“We’ve all seen how smitten you are with her,” she continued with a spark in her green eyes. “Even Tommen noticed how jittery you were today.”

Gendry felt his ears grow warm.

“I wasn’t that…I.”

“Oh, my sweet boy,” his mother chuckled. “Stop glaring at your brother. He has his ways but- “

“He’s a whoring dumb arse.”

The Queen sighed. “Yes, he is,” she admitted. “But he loves you and he’d never do anything to hurt you.”

Gendry looked back out at the dance floor. He noticed Joffrey’s unusually serious expression (his brother usually wore a cocky grin, ready to charm and flirt) as he spoke with Arya.

“The song is ending,” His mother grasped his arm. “Go get your time with her.”

Gendry nodded and rose from his seat. He hurried down to where Joffrey led Arya around. Gendry opened his mouth as he approached to cut in, but before he knew it, Joffrey had spun Arya around making her almost slam into his body.

Gendry steadied her, placing his hands on her waist.

She looked up at him with her piercing, silver eyes. Gendry was hypnotized for a moment. Arya then glanced down to where his hands rested on her waist and then back up at him, raising a thick eyebrow.

Realization dawned on Gendry. He jerked his hands away from her as if he had been burned.

“I am sorry, my lady.” He apologized, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I just lost my footing, “She replied, glancing at Joffrey who still stood beside them.

“Well, I’ll just leave the two of you here.” Joffrey smiled widely at them, clapping them both on the shoulder.

“Oh, before I go.” Joffrey wrapped his arm around Arya’s shoulders, causing Gendry to become even more annoyed. Why was he still here?

“That little redhead your brother was just dancing with,” he leaned in close to Arya, gesturing off to the side.

“Alys Karstark,” Arya answered.

“Alys,” Joffrey nodded. “Is she and your brother, wait, don’t tell me, doesn’t matter. The two of you have fun.”

With that, Gendry watched his brother march off towards a line of Northern ladies standing against the wall.

“Your brother is... interesting,” Arya said, folding her hands in front of her.

“Yes, he is.” Gendry agreed through gritted teeth. He closed his eyes wishing he could be pounding away at something in Mott’s forge.

“So, are you going to ask me to dance?”

Gendry’s eyes blew open. He stared down at Arya who was currently studying his form.

He gulped, “Did you want to dance?”

“Honestly, no.”

Gendry couldn’t help but let his shoulders drop in disappointment.

“I could go for a walk. “She said, her eyes finally settling on his. Gendry smiled in relief. A walk meant potentially being truly alone with Arya.

“Lead the way, my lady.”

He followed as she made her way through the crowd. They went through one of the many dark hallways before reaching the end where a guard stood and opened the door for them.

Gendry stumbled as a powerful gust of wind assaulted them once they stepped outside. He planned to turn to Arya and suggest they go back inside to fetch thicker furs as the night air was crueler than the days.

But when he looked at her, she had the most serene expression. Her eyes were closed as she tilted her head upwards towards the night sky. As another harsh, bitter cold gust of wind blew against them a small smile graced her face.

Gendry’s heart clenched. She belonged here. Gendry had never seen someone so in their element.

He said nothing, realizing that he was witnessing a rare moment of someone’s true self.

She slowly opened her eyes, the small smile still present. Then, as if awaking from a daze, she blinked and turned to him.

“Have you been to the Godswood?” She asked.

Gendry shook his head.

“We’ll go there then.”

* * *

Ned smiled at his friend as he sat down with a thump.

“Ah, Ned,” Robert sighed. “If only I was twenty years younger. These ones today don’t know how to enjoy a feast.”

“Perhaps we just had a better handle on our ale then.” Ned watched as Robert swayed in his seat. The King gave a humph. The two men looked out over the hall.

“Ha, looks like things are falling into place.”

Ned followed the King’s line of sight to see his daughter leading Prince Gendry out of the hall. He quickly reached for his cup of ale, taking his first gulp of the night.

“I know I’ll sleep easier tonight.”

“Hmm,” Ned continued to stare at the entranceway where his youngest daughter left with a boy he barely knew.

“Get that pained look off your face, Ned.” Robert laughed. “My son is nothing like me, your daughter and her maidenhead will survive the night.”

The Lord of Winterfell winced at his friend’s crudeness.

“Yours is quite the popular isn’t he.” Robert gestured to Robb who stood smiling with Theon surrounded by a group of ladies from lesser Northern houses.

“He’s about the same as any his age.”

“And your eldest, your bastard, what’s his name again?”

“Jon,” Ned answered, tensing up. Robert had never asked about Jon before and Ned had done his best to mention him as little as possible.

“Jon,” Robert nodded. “He’s not here. He was in the courtyard earlier, where is he now?”

Ned shifted in his seat. His wife had told Jon to stay far away from the feast and he never argued with her about Jon unless she was telling him to send him away from Winterfell. It was for his own good. “Cat- “

“Ah, the lady of the house still offended by a bastard.”

Ned sighed, taking another sip of ale.

“He has Stark features,” Robert said after a moment.

“Yes.”

“Yet, he does not really look like you.”

Ned shrugged, “I suppose he takes from his mother.”

“His mother,” Robert muttered. Ned looked straight ahead. “What are your plans for the boy?”

“He wants to go off to the Night’s Watch. I always hoped he’d stay here and help Robb, maybe become the Master of Arms.”

“He good with a sword.”

“The best I’ve ever seen.” Ned smiled fondly thinking of the boy he raised.

“And yet he stays hidden.”

Ned glanced at Robert.

“Did Lyanna ever know about Jon? She ever… see him?”

“Briefly before she passed.” _That was true_ , Ned thought.

“Why did she die, Ned?” Robert asked, his voice clear. He had sobered up during their conversation.

“I don’t know,” Ned answered truthfully again. He didn’t know exactly why his sister died, only that she did and that she didn’t want to. She truly didn’t want to.

“She was one hell of a woman.” Robert let out a mirthless chuckle, “A woman who would do anything for the people she loved.”

Ned finished his drink.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry spend time in the Godswood with the wolves.

Gendry grunted as he stumbled through another shrub. He had been fine until he followed Arya into the pitch-black thickness of the woods. The trees creating a canvas above them that blocked out any light. He lost sight of Arya and was only able to track her through her occasion calls of “this way” and “over here”.

It had been a while since she said anything, and Gendry found himself stomping through yet another shrub and then knocking his shoulder into a tree. He tried to maintain a sense of adventure, but it was difficult to calm his growing frustration.

“Arya,” he huffed out. “Where- “

Gendry caught a glimpse of silver light. He pushed himself onward until suddenly he broke through the tree line to an open clearing. Arya stood just a few paces ahead of him.

Gendry froze at the scene before him.

In the middle of the clearing stood a Weirwood tree. A stern face carved into the white bark with tears of red sap seeping down the trunk. Red leaves fell from the tree into a steaming pool of water. Lounging around the water were six horse size wolves and all six of their sights were set on him.

Arya’s laugh broke him out of his stupor. His eyes found her only to see her smirking back at him.

“What are they?” He breathed out. He had heard of the Winterfell being home to wolves, but he had no idea.

“They’re our dire wolves. Each of us has one.” Arya answered, proudly.

“Your whole family?”

“No just us children.”

“I thought direwolves were extinct,” Gendry said, trying to remember his lessons on the rare and extinct creatures of Westeros.

“No, just rare this side of the wall.” Arya stepped a few more paces towards that pack of wolves. She looked over her shoulder and gestured for him to follow her. “Come on.”

Gendry stayed rooted to his spot. “What if they don’t want me near them?”

Arya smirked. “They would’ve torn you apart by now.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” he grumbled.

Arya turned her body to face him before turning her dainty nose up. “If you are truly afraid, I understand.”

 _This is a test_ , Gendry realized. He looked at the wolves of varying colors, staring back at him with different levels of interest.

He looked back to Arya who stood with her arms folded, leaning her weight on one side, making her hip jut out slightly. Gendry stepped forward, showing his intention to follow her.

She nodded once and strutted over to the wolves and Gendry tried to keep his focus from the way her hips swayed from side to side.

He tried to approach the beasts with the same confidence that she did, but when the first wolf with tangled black fur passed him, he slowed his pace. The others seemed to part, creating a path for him and Arya, only to cross and circle behind him.

Arya stopped and wrapped her arms around a grey and white wolf, who nuzzled her against her head before turning her dark eyes back on him.

“This is Nymeria. She’s mine.”

Gendry stopped in front of the pair. “Does she listen to you?”

Arya nodded. “They all do. They’re connected to us.”

Gendry watched as Nymeria tilted her head. He couldn’t help but stare back into the wolf’s eyes. It was as if the animal was looking into his soul, the thought sent a shiver down his spine.

“She’s beautiful.” He said, reaching out his hand so that she could sniff it. First, the wolf nudged his hand. Gendry stayed still. Nymeria then lowered her head, breaking away from Arya’s embrace, she moved her form under Gendry’s hand, which he took as a signal for him to pet her. She grumbled as she turned, wagging her tail and nudging his hand again.

Gendry smiled and raised his other hand to scratch behind the wolf’s ear. He glanced up at Arya who stared on with furrowed brows.

“What?”

Arya shook her head. “I’ve never seen her do that before.”

“Does she normally not take to people?”

“No, she likes people just fine. She’s just…guarded.”

“Why’s that?”

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know.” She walked off to the side to sit on a rock next to the pool of water, across from the weirwood.

Gendry pet Nymeria for a moment more before the wolf grew bored and trotted away to stand next to one of her siblings. He went to sit on the ground next to Arya.

“Why do you go to the forge?” She asked as soon as he hit settled.

“You been asking’ round about me, Stark?” He grinned, picking up a stone and flicking it at the water, the thick steam hiding whether it skipped or not.

“Your brother mentioned it.”

Gendry refrained from rolling his eyes. “What else did my dear brother say?”

“That you feed orphans and stuff. Talks like he admires you.”

“Such admiration.” He muttered. Joffrey had only ever given him shit about visiting the orphanage in King’s Landing, instead of the brothels. The only time Joffrey had ever shown any gratitude was when Gendry saved him from an angry husband or father.

“Is what he says true?” Arya asked, leaning forward on her knees.

Gendry sighed and nodded. “I go to the forge because I like it. I like working with my hands. I don’t know it’s just a good feeling when you can take a lump of metal and turn it into something. You hear about all these heroes and their weapons, but no one ever knows about the people behind them.”

Arya frowned, “I suppose not.”

“I snuck down to the street of steel one day and I just took to it.” Gendry smiled thinking of the days when he had to sneak out of the castle. “Always thought if I wasn’t prince, I’d be a blacksmith.”

Arya chuckled.

“What?”

Arya shook her head, “The Septa here, she used to say I had the hands of a blacksmith.”

Gendry looked at her hand, in the moonlight they looked like white and smooth and gentle.

Gendry couldn’t picture her in the forge lifting the pounds of steel and breaking it down.

“Ha, those little things. You could barely lift up the hammer.”

Arya whipped her head towards him. “I am stronger than I look.” She declared.

“I’m sure.”

Arya pursed her lips and turned to look at the steam rising from the pool. The two of them stayed like that. Sitting, watching the steam rise and frame the face on the tree. Gendry looked up at Arya. She wore a stoic expression. She rubbed her hands together, cracking her knuckles occasionally.

Gendry sighed. “Look, Arya, I like you.”

Arya looked at him. He found her grey eyes and hoped she could pick up his sincerity. “I don’t… I’m not the type to force things, but if we could try.”

Arya opened her mouth as if to reply, but then a white wolf with striking red eyes came from behind her and laid at her feet. He watched as Arya reached down to pet the white wolf, wondering he was witnessing the connection Arya had mentioned.

“A double-sided spear.” She said suddenly.

Gendry blinked. Arya turned on the rock to fully face him.

“A double-sided spear that can come apart and reattach in the middle. Can you make one?”

Gendry nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“It’s not a gift. It’s for me.”

Gendry nodded again. “Alright.”

“I train, with weapons.” Arya sat up straight, raising her head high. “I wake up early before my lessons and I train with my brothers.”

“Yes, I heard you also have a Bravosi sellsword to teach you as well,” Gendry recalled what his father told him.

“Yes,” She said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d like to meet him,” Gendry replied, honestly. “You get tired of sparring with the same people in the same style and everyone always holds back on me.”

Arya scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Syrio wouldn’t and I definitely wouldn’t.”

Gendry grinned, “I don’t doubt it.”

Arya looked down at him quizzically, “It doesn’t bother you, that I train?”

“Why should it?”

“Some people, most people, say it’s not ladylike.”

Gendry rolled his eyes, “I find most people are idiots. There have been many women throughout history who more than proved themselves capable of wielding a sword or leading a house. Many times, it’s up to women to take charge while men are off fighting in wars.”

Arya stared at him, her mouth twitching once, twice. “You’re strange,” she said, finally.

“Ha,” Gendry leaned back on his hands. “Well, I’m sure you’ve had the same said about you.”

Arya shrugged, “Mostly from my sister.”

“She married a Tyrell, right.” Gendry vaguely remembered a redhead on the arm of Knight of Flowers the last time the house of Highgarden came to court to suggest a marriage for their daughter.

“Yes,”

“You miss her?”

“She’s my sister.”

“That’s not an answer.” Gendry leaned forward, taking notice of how she did not shift away.

“We didn’t get along,” She said, raising her hands slightly only to have them fall back on to her lap.

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Still,” Gendry replied. He bent his leg and rested his forearm on his knee, his hand almost brushing against hers.

Arya rose quickly, gathering her skirts. “We better go.”

“Alright,” Gendry replied, reluctantly.

“I should probably take your hand.” He said, dusting the snow off his body. Arya looked back at him with her wide eyes. He tried to keep the smile off his face, “You know so you could help guide me out.”

She scoffed and made her way back to the tree line, “You’re stupid if you think I’ll fall for that.”

Gendry laughed and followed her, ready to stumble through the woods once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,  
> Thank you for reading and following and commenting on this story. I had someone ask for more direwolves so I hope this chapter delivered on that a bit. Let me know what you think, what you want to see, and thank you again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry spend some time at the training yard.

Arya woke up the morning after the feast feeling confused. She felt… nervous. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew it had something to do with Prince Gendry.

It had been easier to talk to him then she had anticipated and Nymeria had taken to him immediately. Her wolf’s reaction to the prince confused Arya more than anything. Nymeria, while never vicious in nature, was always wary of people outside of the Stark family and their close servants. Arya thought the wolf might growl at Gendry enough to scare him off. Instead, the wolf had practically rolled over for him. Arya turned over in bed to see Nymeria sprawled out on the floor taking up nearly half the room.

“Traitor,” Arya accused. Nymeria raised her head, grumbled, and rolled over to her other side facing the wall.

Arya tossed her blanket off her and jumped out of bed. She stretched her arms above her head as she walked over to her wardrobe.

She pulled out some leather breeches and a tunic that her mother had made.

“This is better than wearing your brothers’ things,” She had said. “This way you’ll show your femininity.”

Arya had rolled her eyes at that. What did it matter if she looked feminine while she tumbled around in the mud, swinging swords about? But, Arya had to admit, she liked the way the leather tunic clung to her, falling just below her knee, and moving with her body as opposed to the baggy shirts that she would have to tie up so that they wouldn’t get in the way.

Once dressed, Arya walked out of her room, leaving the door open for Nymeria. The sun seemed to be rising but the thick clouds above only allowed for a grey hue. Only the men, her brothers and others who trained as guards were up and about. It had taken a while for them to accept that she trained with them. They would hold back and laugh off to the side whenever she fell on her arse. But Arya was determined and a quick learner and soon the men, including her brothers were the ones being laughed at each time they fell on their arses. The only one she could never get was Jon. Jon was the best of them all, a natural talent that rivaled hers.

Arya adjusted her crooked glove as she neared the training yard. She could make out the light chatter and the sounds of clashing wood as she grew closer. She looked around to see Robb chatting with Theon and Rickon off to the side while Jon began a spar with Jory. Arya briefly wondered where Bran was. Probably off climbing, she thought, he had never grown at of that habit.

“Lady Arya,”

Arya turned to see Prince Gendry already jogging over to where she stood. 

“I thought I might see you here this morning,”

“Of course, you did.” Arya pursed her lips, “I told you I trained.”

“Right, but you said you wouldn’t hold back on me in a spar.” The Prince looked her up and down, causing Arya to stand straighter. “I was hoping to see if you would be true to your word.”

Arya shrugged, “If my prince is fine being shown up by a girl in front of his countrymen.”

“It’s settled then.” Gendry grinned.

Arya turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder. If Prince Gendry wanted her to flip him flat on his arse, then she would see it done. She went over to the weapons rack and selected a spear.

“That thing looks taller than you, my lady,” Gendry said as he came up behind her. “You still want me to make you one.”

Gendry stood so close to her; Arya could feel the heat from his body. He reached over, picking up a short handle war hammer from the rack. Arya scoffed, stepping away to face him.

“A hammer. How Baratheon of you.”

Gendry chuckled.

Arya carried the spear behind her back as she walked over to the center of the yard.

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you,” Gendry asked as he settled in front of her. Arya vaguely heard her brother let out a laugh.

“I’ll give you the first swing, your grace.” She said, planting her feet in the ground. Gendry nodded once, sliding one foot back. He spun his hammer off to the side once, twice and finally swinging it at Arya’s head. Arya swiftly ducked out of the way, kicking out her leg to catch Gendry’s causing him to lose balance and fall backward. As he fell, Arya shifted her weight into a lunge, bringing her spear from behind her back to rest its sharp edge at Gendry’s neck.

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you.” She said sweetly.

Gendry stared up at her with wide eyes. He suddenly threw his head back in laughter.

“Only my pride is hurt.” He managed to say in between his laughter. “But I’ll recover.”

Arya pulled her spear back and rose from her position. Gendry got up to his knees only to reach for his hammer that landed a foot away and swing it at her feet. Arya, already anticipating the move, leaped into the air, bringing her knees to her chest, avoiding the hammer. She turned on her heel as she landed back on her feet.

“Some rely too much on strength and brute force.” She mused. “I have always believed it is better to be swift.”

“I suppose so,” Arya smirked at his breathy reply. She turned to face him, opening her mouth for a smart retort. Her words turned to a gasp as she found herself falling. She landed on her back with a grunt. Gendry came into her vision above her as his massive hands raised her own above her head.

“But strength does come in handy.”

Arya attempted to wriggle free, but it was useless. The big oaf had her in a steel grip. Arya growled in frustration.

“Now I see why they call you she-wolf,” Gendry laughed. The way his laughter lit up his eyes only served to frustrate her more.

“Get off.”

Gendry released her wrists allowing her to smack his chest impulsively as she got to her feet.

“Girl!”

Arya closed her eyes, groaning inwardly at the familiar Bravosi accent.

“You are too cocky. Have I taught you nothing?” Syrio came forward with his hand on his hip, shaking his head.

“The first thing I see this morning is you flat on your back, pinned down. I could weep.”

“The fault was mine, sir,” Gendry spoke up beside her. “I was pushing her.”

Syrio glanced at the prince briefly before looking back at Arya with a stern expression.

“An enemy will always push, that is no excuse. The girl knows this.”

“Yes, Syrio,” Arya nodded, embarrassment flooding through her. “It won’t happen again.”

Syrio gestured for her to stand off to the side.

Arya quickly picked up her spear and went over to the weapons rack to place it back.

“He’s harsh,” Gendry remarked coming behind her.

“He’s right,” Arya grumbled. She stepped back only to bump into his firm chest. Why was he standing so close to her? It was making her nervous.

“Why are you putting the spear up?” He asked, putting up his own hammer.

“When I’m wrong, I need to learn and observe.” She explained. Syrio had often put her off to the side to observe the way others moved, not just in a fight but just how they walked or carried themselves. If he didn’t have her do that then she would be running after crows or cats. It was her teacher’s way of reminding her where she started.

“Well, I think what you did was amazing.”

Arya scoffed. “What? Letting you knock me to the ground.”

“No, you put me down. I never even saw that coming. How’d you get so fast?”

Arya gave him a small smile, “Years of training with natural talent.”

They walked over to the side of the yard where Jon and Theon were sparing. Theon had fallen to the ground and Jon would only allow him to rise briefly before knocking him down again.

“He’s really good,” Gendry remarked.

Arya nodded, “He is.” The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

“He a friend of yours?” The pitch in Gendry’s voice changed prompting Arya to look up at him.

“He’s my brother.”

“Oh,” Gendry dropped his shoulders. Very broad shoulders, Arya thought.

“I don’t recall meeting him at the feast.”

“My mother didn’t want him there, he’s not hers.” Arya rolled her eyes at her mother’s behavior. Jon had never been anything but respectful and polite to her mother and she still looked down on him with contempt.

“Ah,” Gendry nodded in understanding. “I once tried to bring my sister Mya to court, my mother threw a fit. She’s usually polite and composed but that day she was all lion.”

The description of the Queen reminded her very much of her own mother.

“You’re close to your sister then?”

“I try to keep in contact with all my siblings. When I’m king I plan to bring a few of them into court. My brother Edric thought he might be interested in the King’s Guard.”

“You don’t worry about any of them taking the throne from you.” Arya finally turned to face him fully.

Gendry shook his head, a rueful smile gracing his face. “They’d be welcome to it.”

Arya tilted her head. “So, you’d be willing to abdicate your position.”

“If someone better comes along, I would bend the knee. I have enough respect for my people to want what’s best for them. I’ll do my best, but I’ve never wanted the responsibility.”

“Why not allow Joffrey or Tommen or even Myrcella to be the heir?” Arya asked genuinely curious. If this man truly had no desire for the throne, then what was he doing?

“They don’t want it either.”

“Ha,” Arya laughed. The people in the highest positions of power didn’t even want it, how ironic.

“Do you want to be a lady?”

“No,” Arya blurted out. Gendry folded his arms and leaned slightly towards her.

“But you play the part. Why?”

Arya rose an eyebrow, “I wasn’t playing the Lady when I flipped you over.”

“Why do you play the part _sometimes_ then?”

“For my family,” She answered immediately. It was the truth. Family, duty, honor was her mother’s house words. She tried to abide by them as much as House Stark’s.

“Is that all?” Arya sighed and finally matched the intense stare he had been giving her throughout their conversation.

“For some reason, people don’t listen to girls.” Arya began shaking her head. “They listen a bit more when they realize I’m Lady Arya Stark, and even more when I look like a lady.”

“People listen when you look like a King too.” Gendry broke from her gaze finally and watched his foot kick the dirt. “I don’t much like the attention, but if people hear your voice, you can get things done.”

“Hmm,” Arya nodded. She noticed some of his hair falling into his eyes, causing him to blink. Arya shook her head. She turned back to face the yard of sparring men.

They stood there for a while, commenting on the strategies they saw. Gendry even managed to make her laugh a few times by joking about how a few of the men carried themselves.

As the sun began to rise higher, Arya readied herself to head to her lessons for the day.

“Do you think we could go for a ride later?” Gendry asked, grabbing her elbow. For the first time, Arya did not feel an urge to pull away. A fact that she chose to ignore.

“Sure,”

He smiled brilliantly, crinkles forming near his eyes. Arya cleared her throat and bowed.

“Your grace.”

“My lady.”

She turned, clutching her elbow that he had touched as she walked away. She was halfway back to her rooms when suddenly her arm was yanked back causing her to lose her balance.

“Seven hells,” She gasped, raising her hand to make a claw, ready to claw out the eyes of her attacker.

“It’s me idiot,” Bran whispered harshly. “Come here.”

Huffing and rolling her eyes, Arya allowed Bran to drag her into a passageway off to the side.

“What is it?” She grumbled, yanking her arm out of her brother’s grip. Bran paced in front of her chewing his lip. He stopped in front of her, nodding once before meeting her eyes.

“I saw something,” he said finally.

Arya shrugged, “Alright.”

“I saw the Queen,” Bran started. He looked over his shoulder and then looked her dead in the eye. “I saw the Queen and her brother, Ser Jaimie…together.”

Arya blinked.

Bran stepped forward. “I was climbing, and I was on one of the towers and they were in there, together in a way that siblings should not be together.”

Arya’s heart stopped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry is confused as to why Arya has been ignoring him. Meanwhile, Arya reflects on her feelings for Gendry and what she learned about his family.

Gendry was extremely frustrated. He thought he had been making progress with Arya. First, they had taken that walk in the Godswood where he met the family pack of direwolves. It was their first true conversation and she had opened up to him a bit whether she realized it or not. Then they sparred in the training yard which was… incredibly arousing. Arya was agile and flexible and fierce. He didn’t think he could enjoy being knocked down on his arse so much. He couldn’t help but imagine other situations in which she could push him down and hover over him. 

The vision of her flushed, hands pinned above her head looking up at him with those round silver eyes would stay with him until the end of his days. There was a spark lit between them and by the way she blushed (Gendry could have sworn she blushed), Arya felt it too.

But two days had passed since then and Arya had avoided him like a plague. What had he done?

Since Arya had pointed him out in the yard, Gendry had made an effort to befriend her brother Jon. Gendry had asked him if Arya had said anything. 

Jon had shrugged, “ Last thing she told me was something about a spear.”

The spear!

So Gendry had spent the previous day making the double-sided spear Arya had asked for. Now he stood in front of the door he was told was the ladies’ drawing-room, spear in hand. He knocked on the door and straightened his shoulders. (His mother always told him the time he spent hunched over forging was ruining his posture.) 

When the handmaiden opened the door, he asked for Arya. The maid shut the door again, he heard a squeal and then shuffling. 

Suddenly, the door opened and Arya stumbled toward him as if she had been pushed. She caught herself on his shoulder as the door slammed shut behind her. 

“My lady,” He greeted. She took her hand off his shoulder and straightened up. She gave him a small smile in return, crossing her arms. Gendry didn’t let himself get down about the effort she made to put distance between them. 

“I hadn’t seen you in a day or two so I wanted to make sure you were well,”

“I am perfectly well, thank you,” She gave him a curt nod. Before Gendry could reply she began to turn as if she wanted to go back into the room. She stopped midway, staring at something. Gendry followed her line of sight, realizing that her eyes had landed on the spear he held. 

“I finished it,” He announced, bringing the spear in between them. Arya reached out with one hand, running her fingers across the grip. 

“I did everything you asked,” he said, showing her where the spear detached forming two separate weapons. 

“It’s good to work,” she said, biting her lip. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Gendry felt his chest puff out at the compliment. 

“I don’t think my mother will appreciate me bringing it in for tea,”

“I’ll hold it for you,” Gendry suggested. “I’ll bring it down next time you go to the training yard.” 

Arya nodded but she was so tense as if his very presence disturbed her.

“Did I do something?”He asked finally. Arya shook her head.

“No, you didn’t do anything. I just, I really haven’t been feeling well.”

Gendry was immediately concerned. “Have you gone to see a maester?” 

Arya shook her head again, “No, it’s-”

“I can take you to the maester now,” Gendry suggested. 

“I don’t need the maester, it will pass.”

“Is it just a cold? How do you know?”

“It’s nothing serious.”

“I thought you trained every morning and I haven’t seen you for the past two days, so it must be serious.”

“Well, it isn’t,” she bit out. Gendry’s frustration returned with her stubbornness. Why didn’t she just see the maester if she was sick to the point of not going out for two days? 

“You should come to the maester,” he said again. 

“I don’t need to. It will pass.”

“How do you know?” 

“It’s just my moon blood.”

Gendry blinked. Oh. 

“Oh, well, I uh,” Gendry stammered. He hadn’t been prepared for that. Of course, she wouldn’t want to train or come out when she was… 

“I’ll hold this for you.” Gendry held up the spear. Arya nodded. Gendry gave what he hoped was a sympathetic smile. His sister never talked about her… woman troubles, but he gathered that it could be painful and exhausting. “ And I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks,” Arya gave him a small smile and went back into the room.

“My lady,” Gendry said mostly to the door. He then took the spear he made for her, his courting gift, back to his room. 

  
  


Arya sighed as she went back into the room and sat in her chair, ignoring her mother’s eyes. It wasn’t the first time Arya had used her moon blood as an excuse to get a man to stop bothering her. Usually, the tactic was used on her brothers to get them to shut up about how moody she was. But she was certain the Crown Prince of Westeros had never had a lady he was trying to court tell him she was on her moon blood, even if it was a lie. Oh well, Arya thought. 

She wouldn’t let herself be embarrassed by the lie she told, she just wasn’t ready to face him yet. 

The news Bran had shared with her about Gendry’s mother and uncle had shocked her, to say the least. Though she imagined it wouldn’t have been so shocking if it had been thirty years ago and they were Targaryens instead of Lannisters. Either way, the Queen of Westeros, Cersei Lannister, was having an affair with her twin Jamie, a fact that if it was made known to the general public could have the potential to rock about the Royal family and Westeros. Which is why Arya told Bran to keep the information between the two of them until… well if...until it was necessary to tell people. But Arya didn’t see a reason to tell anyone else. The only way it really affected anything was if Cersei’s children were really her brother’s, then the whole line of succession would be in question. But Gendry was the heir and so obviously Baratheon, many said it was like looking at a ghost of the King. Arya had not allowed herself to think of the other children, Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella, who seemed to favor the Lannister side. They all seemed happy. They probably had their spats but every family did. There was no reason to expose a secret like this. It could tear that family apart. It wasn’t her or Bran’s secret to tell. They would just have to bury their thoughts in the back of their minds until a day came that… 

Arya sighed again, thinking of Gendry. 

One of the revelations that Arya had since Bran told her what he had seen was about Gendry. She liked him. 

She hadn’t even realized it had happened. She knew he was handsome but she had seen handsome men before. But she had never woken up thinking of those men before. That night in the Godswood she had divulged more than she thought she would but Nymeria had taken to him so well and the sight of it, if she was being completely honest, warmed her heart. The connection between her and her direwolf was so strong. If Nymeria had felt comfortable, then Arya would be as well. Then the training yard. He had pinned her down which at the moment caused her nothing but frustration. Afterward, thinking back on it, it caused nothing but a flutter in her stomach to think of him above her, grinning down at her, calling her she-wolf. 

Arya shivered. 

“Arya!”

Arya looked towards her mother. “What?”

“I swear sometimes I don’t know if you are actually going off into a dream world or just deliberately ignoring me.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “I’ll be honest with you mother, it’s mostly the latter.”

Her mother’s nostrils flared but she went back to her sewing. “What did the prince want?”

“Mostly an apology for me being pushed at him when the door opened,” Arya said, recalling how her mother yanked her out of the chair and pushed her out the door when the maid announced it was Prince Gendry at the door. 

“Oh, you,” A ball of thread was thrown her way. A needle must have been sticking out of it as she felt a pinch when it hit her. 

“Ow,” 

“What did he say?” Her mother asked again. 

Arya picked up her own disastrous sewing she worked on to humor her mother. 

“He made me a spear.”

“Well, that was kind of him,” her mother responded after a moment of silence. Probably due to shock at the thought that the Prince would be making her a spear. 

“Yes,”

“He likes you.” Her mother smiled at her. The smile she used when Sansa would tell her about boys. 

“I wouldn’t be able to say,”

“He took the time to make something he knew you’d like with his own bare hands, men don’t just do that for anyone.”

Arya shrugged. 

“Do you think you like him?” 

Another shrug. 

Her mother sighed. “Arya, I want us to be able to talk about things.”

“I don’t know if you’d like what I have to say all the time,” she said, honestly. “That’s why I talk to father… or Jon.”

If the mention of Jon phased her mother, she didn’t let it show.

“You want to talk to them about Gendry,” she said, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

Arya imagined speaking with her father about boys. He would try to humor her, surely but… And Jon, she didn’t know whether he would laugh or cry if she told him that she spent lunch yesterday thinking about Gendry’s jaw. 

“I don’t want to like him,” Arya admitted. 

“Why not?”

Arya thought for a moment. There were a few reasons why. “Because then I have to go south and I know people leave their homes all the time but it doesn’t make it easier.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I don’t want to be Queen. All of that responsibility and pressure to be perfect.”

“Being Queen is what you make of it. I am sure the council will let you be as involved as you want to be. If a betrothal is made and you have concerns, I am sure Queen Cersei would be more than happy to help you.”

Arya bit her lip. “Queen Cersei doesn’t seem very approachable.”

“It’s not like you to be intimidated, darling.”

Arya shifted in her seat. The news of Cersei was still so fresh, Arya wasn’t ready to think of her as a potential mentor (let alone mother in law) just yet. 

“I don’t know if intimidated is the right word.”

Suddenly there was a thud at the door. Arya and her mother looked at each other before looking questioningly at the door. Her mother’s handmaiden went over to open it, but in the time it took her to cross the room, a shouting Rickon riding on top of Shaggy Dog burst through. 

“Arya, we’re going on a hunt!”

“Rickon what did I say about riding your wolf in the house?” 

Rickon quickly jumped off Shaggy Dog only to leap into his mother’s arms. 

“The King said he felt like going on a hunt tomorrow, so father sent me to tell Arya to be ready in the morning.”

Wonderful, a hunt, Arya thought. But if the King requested it, then that meant Gendry would be there to0. Arya hoped that she would have her thoughts straightened out by tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who follows this story. I wish I could have a more consistent posting schedule but with school and work, it's just not happening. I hope to post at least once a week, so we'll see how it goes. Other than that I appreciate all the Kudos and comments and if anyone has any requests or suggestions let me know.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya goes along on a hunting trip and Ned has a realization.

_ Dearest Sister, _

_ Who would have thought, my little sister could be the next Queen of Westeros? I must admit I am a bit jealous. If my valiant Knight of Flowers had not swept me up when he had, then it would surely be me in your place. It is all difficult to imagine though as HighGarden suits me perfectly. All's well that ends well, I suppose.  _

_ I hope to hear the confirmation of your betrothal soon. I have been waiting for an excuse to debut my new gown, it’s from Dorne.  _

_ I hope all is well with the family. Mother keeps begging me to come and visit Winterfell but I am so very busy with my duties here. It will be up to you, little sister, to fill the void I have left behind.  _

_ Best Wishes, _

_ Your loving sister, Sansa _

Arya tossed the parchment on to her night table. 

_ You’re loving sister.  _ Horse shit.  _ Horse face.  _

Arya shook her head, pushing back the memories of her sister and her friends calling her names. Arya attempted to block out thoughts of her sister as much as possible, but whenever her sister was mentioned or wrote to her, she would find herself in a spiral once more. 

She worked hard to be proud of who she was. She found herself second-guessing things from time to time, but for the most part, she was happy. She would not indulge in any kind of competition with her sister. Sansa was out in Highgarden living a life she wanted and Arya would find her way as well. 

Arya sat on the edge of her bed and tugged on her boots. She had other things to focus on today. Like riding next to Gendry and pretending that she didn’t know that his mother was having an affair with his uncle. Arya groaned. 

_ How the hell was she supposed to do this?  _ The actions of his mother had nothing to do with Gendry, as far as she knew. It was just a reason for her to say no to getting to know him and playing into what everyone wanted. She had been hoping and praying for a reason to get out of the betrothal but she liked Gendry. She knew she liked him because her thoughts kept drifting to him. 

“Arya!” Robb’s voice was followed by the sound of banging on the door. Arya grabbed a tie from her bedside table and put her hair in a tight bun as she crossed the room to answer the door. 

She undid the latch and met her brother in the hall. His Tully blue eyes shone brightly as he grinned at her. 

“So eager for me and Nymeria to steal your kills,” She japed, referencing previous hunts where Nymeria would have Greywind lead Robb one direction while Arya would follow the real track. 

“You are such a cheat,” Robb accused, jabbing a finger in her face. Arya made to bite at it, but Robb swung his other arm around her neck and began to lead her down the hall. Arya grunted and punched at his ribs as he forced her head into his armpit. 

“You won’t have time to pull any of your usual stunts, as you will be occupied with the Prince.” He said as they made their way down the hall. 

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” She promised, finally shoving him away once they were outside. 

She loved her relationship with Robb. Jon was her closest confidant, who listened and indulged her in a lot. Robb was to be the next Lord of Winterfell which sometimes meant he had to be stern and he was the one her mother sent to wrangle her in at times. But he was also fun-loving and would tease her and cheer her up. 

He was such a good brother and would make a wonderful lord. 

“We’ll see, little sister.” Robb tousled her hair. 

“Stark!” A voice filled with the arrogance only a spoiled prince could have. 

Arya groaned inwardly. She turned on her heel to see Prince Joffrey amble up to her. 

“Prince Joffrey,” She gave a slight curtsy for appearance's sake. 

“I hear you’ve been avoiding my brother,” he said nonchalantly before squinting his green eyes at her. “What did he do?”

“I haven’t been avoiding your brother,” she denied. “ I already told him, I hadn’t been feeling that well.”

“Well, whatever it is, get over it. Gendry’s been moping about and I can’t take the dopey look on his face anymore.”

Arya glared at him. For a moment during reflection, she had thought it was sweet how Joffrey said he wanted the best for Gendry and yet something in his tone and the smug smile just made her want to slap him about. 

“What sweet brotherly sentiments.”

“I’m just saying, marry him, smile at him, let him pat your arse. I don’t know, just give the man something.”

Arya scoffed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an arse?”

“Yep,” Joffrey grinned. 

Shaking her head, she continued out to where the hunting party was gathering. She picked up a bow and arrow on the way, swinging them on to her back. 

“Arya, I’m glad to see you’re out.” The familiar deep bass made her heart flutter before she was even able to lay eyes on its owner. He was next to her before she had time to react. 

“Yes, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a hunt.”

“So you are feeling better then?” He asked, taking a step closer to her.

“Yes, Gendry. I do feel better.”

“I brought this, figured you could test it out today.” Gendry smiled, producing the spear he showed her yesterday. Arya took it, stopping for a moment when her fingers brushed against hers. Even through her gloves, she could feel the warmth of his hand. 

“I will, thank you.”

“Lady Arya, “ the King approached followed by a meek-looking squire. Arya fought a groan. Was she to be approached by every single member of the royal family. “I’m glad to see you joining us today. I hope my son is treating you well.”

“Yes, your grace,” Arya nodded. “The Prince has been most kind.”

“That’s my boy.” The King smacked Gendry on the back and left to mount his horse.

Arya signaled for Jory to bring her horse to her. Gendry trailed behind her.

“Do you need help on your horse, my lady?”

Arya raised her eyebrow. Gendry shook his head. “Stupid question.”

Once the hunting party was ready, the gates of Winterfell were lifted and they left for the woods. 

“Do you go out hunting often down in King’s Landing?” Arya asked as her horse fell in line with Gendry’s. She let her eyes roam over his form freely. He looked good on top of his stallion. He looked every bit as regal and strong as one would expect a Baratheon prince to look with the layers of furs adding to his broad shoulders. 

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “I mostly leave it for Joffrey and my father. When did your father start letting you go along with them?”

“Perhaps at eight or nine. I snuck out so much, eventually, they gave in and just took me along. I would just watch at first and then I would start picking up the daggers and bows my brothers weren’t using and took my shot. Next thing I know my brothers and I are making bets on who can get the most kills.”

“And she’s a lousy fucking cheat,” Robb called out as he passed by them on his horse. 

“Shut up!” Arya growled, wishing she was holding something other than her horse’s reins to throw at her brother. Her father cleared his throat from his spot ahead of her. The familiar sound prompted the instinctual reaction Arya had to lower her head and press her lips together. The clearing of his throat was Lord Stark’s way of telling his children to watch themselves and it was much more effective than Lady Stark’s harsh, scolding whispered threats of punishment.

Arya realized she must have shouted at her brother louder than she thought. She kept her eyes downwards until she heard a light chuckle next to her. 

Arya raised her eyes to find Gendry giving her a warm smile. 

  
  


The hunting party went deeper into the forest, deciding it was best to leave their horses and continue the hunt on foot. Ned searched for his daughter through the trees. She had gone with Prince Gendry, Robb and Rickon when they split up while he remained with Robert and a few others. He heard shouting and his eyes landed on his daughter yards away taking an arrow from between the eyes of a deer. He watched as she beamed at the Prince who moved to stand beside her, glowing from whatever praise he bestowed upon her. 

“They seem to be getting along,” Robert said next to him. 

“Yes,” Ned agreed. It was obvious to him that Arya was taken with Prince Gendry. The besotted expression on her face was something new to her and yet Ned felt as if he had seen the same look years before when Lyanna-

Ned shook the memory from his head. His daughter was different. She probably didn’t fully comprehend what was happening to her and it did seem as if she was holding back a little. But Lord Stark, who loved his young daughter more than anything in the world, could see the effect the young Prince was having on her. What was worse was that he knew it meant, sooner rather than later, he would have to let her go. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry spend time in the Godswood while Jon remembers a promise.

“Where do you go when you look off like that?”

They sat on a log in the Godswood. Gendry gazed at Arya as she stared intensely at the tree line. They had been chatting lightly about some places they wanted to visit, Bravos mostly. He had noticed it more than a few times in the past few weeks. If they were riding through the woods, walking around Wintertown, or once when they were all at a feast, Arya would just gaze off for a moment as if she was somewhere else. Come to think of it all the Stark children had this habit, Arya and her younger brothers most of all. Some may think of it as brooding but it was as if they sensed or saw something. 

“Hmm?” Arya blinked and turned to him once more. Gendry tried not to be distracted by the way her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip. 

“When you gaze like that, what is it?”

Arya lowered her gaze to her lap, picking at a thread on her sleeve. 

“You’d think I was some mad Northerner if I told you,”

Gendry scoffed, “I already know you're a mad Northerner, nothing you can do about that.”

Arya jabbed her elbow in his side making Gendry reach for her hand which she jerked away and swatted at his chest playfully. Once Gendry accepted defeat, Arya continued. 

“Remember when I first brought you out here and I told you we were connected to our direwolves.”

Gendry nodded, “They’re loyal to you.”

“It’s more than that.” She paused as if to search for the words, “Sometimes we can feel them. If one of us gets hurt, our wolves react.”

“Animals are very intuitive.” 

“No, it’s-” Arya shook her head. “Sometimes when I’m dreaming, my dreams are not my own. Sometimes it’s what Nymeria dreams or if she’s moving about I can see everything she sees. Even when I’m awake and she’s off somewhere, I know what she’s doing and feeling. If she’s running I can feel the wind on my face when I’m indoors and if she’s eating a fresh kill I can taste the blood on my tongue.”

Magic from the times of the First Men. Gendry thought back to everything he knew of Northern folklore.

“All of you can do this?”

Arya nodded. “Bran has the most control over it, Sansa denies it. Father says we’re wargs.”

“I think I remember that from my lessons.”

“It’s a rare gift.” She said quietly. He looked out at the tree line she had just been focused on and tried to imagine what she had been seeing. When she licked her lip just seconds ago, was that what she meant by tasting blood? 

“You think I’m mad.”

Gendry turned to her so fast his neck cracked, “No, Arya, no. It’s a lot to take in, sure, but I don’t think you’re mad. If anything it makes me more in awe of you than ever.”

“That’s stupid,” she rolled her eyes. 

“No, do you have any idea how intimidating you and your whole family are? The whole lot of you are noble and honest and talented and skilled in combat. You are followed about with horse size wolves that are prepared to tear anyone to pieces at the snap of your fingers and now you have magical abilities where you can experience things through their eyes.” Gendry paused for a breath. These thoughts had been in his head since he arrived. “And on top of all this, you, you’re strong and fierce, yes but you’re kind and compassionate and clever and I just don’t know how I’m ever supposed to measure up to any of it.”

Arya looked at him incredulously. 

“Why do you have to measure up? You’re the Crown Prince of Westeros.”

Gendry let his shoulders sag with the full weight of his insecurities. “Titles don’t mean anything. What else do I have to offer? It doesn’t make you a good person.” 

Before Gendry could allow himself to slouch, even more, he felt two soft hands on either side of his face. He let Arya’s hands guide him to look into her grey eyes. 

“Wh-”

Gendry’s question was cut off as Arya pressed her lips against his. Gendry leaned into her, his brain shutting down as all he could feel were her sweet lips on his, the warmth radiating off her body and one of her hands moving off his face and into his hair. After a moment of pure bliss, Gendry gasped as Arya pulled away. He opened his eyes to Arya’s smug smile. 

“I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t a good person,” She moved one of her hands to his shoulder while the other stayed in his hair. “And you’re pretty skilled in combat yourself.”

Gendry smiled back.

“Would it make me look even better if I told you about how I punched a squire in the face for making Myrcella cry?”

“Did you break anything?” Arya asked, biting her lip and leaning in once more. Gendry nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. 

“Yeah, his nose was all bloody.”

Arya giggled before bringing his lips to hers once again. 

  
  


Jon sighed as he watched a green boy land on his stomach for the third time. 

“Don’t let him lead you,” Jon instructed, patiently. The young boy nodded, wiping his nose as he rose to his feet and began to circle with his opponent again. 

Jon let his eyes wander around the yard. Rodrick had begun to let Jon train half of the boys starting out to help. Jon appreciated the responsibility. He was good at fighting. He was the best with a long sword even better than Robb though he let Robb win more than not. It wouldn’t do for the bastard son to best the true heir in combat. 

As Jon surveyed the training yard, his eyes fell on his sister. Arya was coming from the direction of the Godswood, hanging on Prince Gendry’s arm. Her eyes were bright as she laughed at whatever the prince said. 

Jon smiled slightly at the sight of his beloved sister so happy, but he couldn’t help but feel saddened at the knowledge that she had grown up so quickly. Soon, whether it be with Gendry or someone else, she would be leaving soon. His little baby sister who used to jump on his back and demand he carry her into battle. 

As his eyes followed Arya and Gendry into the castle, two visions came into his head. First, the most recent, of Arya smiling at Gendry, beautiful and happy and so clearly infatuated. 

The second, a memory of Arya crying on his bed after Sansa and Jeyne Poole told her she was too ugly and horse-like for anyone to want to marry her and her declaring that she would never get married if a pretty face was all anyone wanted her for. 

Jon made a promise years ago when Arya was born and he was just a child himself. When he had reached into her cradle and she had clutched his finger tightly, he swore he would protect her. 

But how could one protect their family from heartbreak? He didn’t think Gendry would ever intentionally hurt Arya, the man was gone over his sister. But Jon couldn’t help but worry. As tough as Arya was, she was still so young and inexperienced when it came to boys. 

Jon sighed again, realizing that all he could do is continue to support her and lend an ear whenever she wished. 

“Jon, look, I got ‘em!”

Jon turned quickly to see the young boy bouncing excitedly as his opponent struggled to rise to his feet. 

“Good, lad” Jon nodded his approval. “Don’t get smug though, stay alert.”

Glancing up at the ramparts, Jon was startled to see the King’s red face glaring down at him. When their eyes met Jon bowed his head. He heard a huff and when he looked back up again, the King was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of played around with the idea of warging so that's why the experiences Arya describes may be different than what was seen in the show or books.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey tries to help Gendry while Arya goes on a ride with her brothers.

“Arya, I want to spend the rest of my life devoted to you. I’d be honored if you’d be my wife. Will you marry me?”

“Oh, yes Gendry!”

Gendry jumped six feet in the air as two lanky arms wrapped around him. The smell of ale permeated the air and his brother’s voice sounded in his ear. Gendry used minimal strength to try to push Joffrey off. 

“Yes, Gendry.” He continued making his voice higher, almost shrill. “Please take me away and take out your cock and fill my pretty-”

“Fuck off Joff!” Gendry jabbed his elbow back causing Joffrey to stumble back. His younger shit of a brother fell back on the bed laughing and coughing. 

“Fucking prick!” Gendry shouted, punching one of the posters of the bed. 

“The fuck are you doing man?” Joffrey sat up, still laughing. 

“None of your damn business.” He shot back. He began pacing in frustration, an act that Gendry always seemed to fall into around his brother. 

“Sounded like you were practicing your proposal to the little Stark.”

“If you already know then why ask?”

Joffrey sighed. “Come on, Gen. I know I give you shit all the time but you can tell me things, especially if that thing is you about to get married.”

Gendry stopped with his hands on his hips to look at his brother. “Anyone told you you’re an arse today?”

“You’d be the first today.” Joffrey got up and patted his shoulder. “Come on, what are you thinking?”

“I want to propose,” Gendry declared, not able to keep the smile off his face. “ I’m ready for that. I’m just waiting for a sign from her, to tell me she’s ready.”

“Like what? She wants you, that's clear.”

“Perhaps, but I want her to be sure. And in the meantime, since I’m not good with words, I’ll practice so I have an idea what to say so I’ll be ready when the moment comes.”

Joffrey nodded, “Word of advice. That bit you just did sounded flowery like something that Tyrell twat would say.”

Gendry thought about what he had been practicing. Pretty words of love and devotion, sweet but not all Arya wanted to hear. “Fuck you’re right that won’t work.”

“I’ll help you practice,” Joffrey suggested. “You be Arya and I’ll be you.”

Gendry rolled his eyes. All the possible crass and suggestive things Joffrey could say flooded his mind, instantly letting him now this was a bad idea. “Joffrey, I try hard every day not to blacken your eye.”

“Come on, I’ll be good.”

“Fine,” Gendry conceded. He sat on the edge of the bed while Joffrey stood proudly in front of him. 

“Arya, “ Joffrey started. 

“Yes,” Gendry played along.

“I can’t promise you that our lives will be easy but I promise to love you and respect you,” Joffrey paused. 

“Make sure you talk about respect and honor, she’s Stark. I promise to love you and respect you and you should also know that I have a huge cock that could just split you in half-”

“Get the fuck out!”

* * *

“Arya,” 

“Hmm,” she blinked out of her reverie. 

“Your head has been up in the clouds all day. What’s with you?” Jon asked. 

Arya shrugged, “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About Prince Gendry,” Jon gives her a teasing smile. 

Arya felt her face grow warm. She slowed her horse to a stop as she and Jon came to the top of a hill overlooking Winterfell. Earlier that morning, all the Stark siblings had decided to go for a ride outside the castle grounds. Arya had been uncharacteristically quiet as the rest of them egged each other on. It was just her and Jon now accompanied by Ghost and Nymeria. Robb had taken the younger ones to see if that wolf pack that had been spotted was lurking around anywhere with their own wolves in tow. 

Arya decided she would have to take advantage of this moment with Jon. 

“Do you like him?” she asked, hoping his answer was good.

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It does to me,” Arya pressed.

“He’s a good lad. It’s strange thinking of you with anyone, you’ll always be my wild little sister covered in mud,” Jon gave her his kind smile that always gave her so much comfort. “But I think you’d be good together.”

A small weight lifted off Arya’s shoulders knowing Jon approved of Gendry, but the weight only allowed room for all her other worries to climb to the surface. 

“It’d be so hard. I’d have to move down south,”

“We’ve always talked about traveling the south,”

“To travel, yes. Not to live.”

“You’d get used to it. There will always be a place for you at Winterfell and you could visit anytime.”

“I’d have to be Queen. That’s so much responsibility, too much responsibility.” 

“It is, but it doesn’t have to be bad. You could create something great, influence change. Everything you always wished for yourself, you could make happen for others.”

Arya considered his words. She thought of the people in Wintertown, those who worked just to live day to day. She knew that conditions were even worse for those living in the south. If she were Queen, it would be up to her to offer a solution, comfort, hope. 

“That’s a lot of weight,” she said, voicing her thoughts out loud. 

“There has always been a road leading you far away, Arya. You know it, I know it, everyone. We’ve never known what it would be, but you’ve always been meant for more.”

Arya looked out over the frost-covered hills. 

“The South, being Queen, these are weak excuses, Arya. Anything you come up with is an excuse. It comes down to whether or not you love Gendry, that’s it.”

Arya looked at Jon and then back at Winterfell. It all felt like an end. The end of her way of life. The end of her childhood. Then she thought of Gendry. His blue eyes and the smile he reserved only for her that made his eyes crinkle at the sides. His kindness and loyalty. His strength and stubbornness. The way he listened to her and spoke to her, always straight and honest. It didn’t have to be an end she realized. She could embark on a new adventure with Gendry. She never envisioned this course for herself. But that giant, stupid bull came and swept her off her feet. She would never admit it, but she realized she never stood a chance. 

“I love him,” Arya smiled as she heard herself say the words she had felt in her heart for what seemed like an eternity. She turned to Jon, “I do love him.”

“Damn, right you do.”Jon laughed. “You want to be with him.”

“I want to be with him,” Arya confirmed, laughing along with Jon. 

“Crazy girl, I’ll miss you.” 

“What happened?”

Robb rode up with Rickon and Bran, their direwolves trailing behind them. 

“I’ve decided to be with Gendry,” Arya announced.

“I thought that was already decided.” Rickon tilted his head confused. 

Robb led his horse over so that he was right next to her.“You’re sure?” he asked seriously.

“I love Gendry, that’s what matters.”

Robb nodded. “I’m happy for you then.” He reached over and placed a light kiss on her forehead. She looked over at Bran who nodded his approval with a small smile. She knew it hadn’t been easy for him to shake the knowledge of the Queen and her brother Jamie, but Gendry had nothing to do with that. 

“So you’re marrying him then?” Rickon asked. Arya nodded.

“I want to. But our father’s haven’t officially approved of the match and he hasn’t even asked me yet, so you mustn't say anything.”

“Fine,” Rickon shrugged with indifference. “I’m hungry. Can we go back?”

Arya took in the sight of her brothers. The four of them lined up before her. She breathed in the crisp Northern air, knowing that when they returned to the castle the next phase of her life would begin. 

* * *

Gendry strode down the hall, headed to the solar his father was using to help with the ravens that were sent from King’s Landing. He noticed a skinny figure up ahead with a wild mane of auburn hair. 

“Lord Rickon,” Gendry called out. The youngest Stark stopped in his tracks. His cheeks were obviously filled to the brink with some kind of food. 

“Hello,” he greeted, crumbs flying out of his mouth. He then blinked as if remembering himself. “Oh, Prince Gendry,” he gave a sloppy bow. Gendry chuckled and noticed the young boy was holding something in his hand. 

“What have you got there?”

“A lemon cake,” he answered. 

“Are you enjoying it?”

“Oh, yes. You should have these when you and my sister get married.”

“I’m sure if we do end up marrying, there will be all kinds of desserts.”

“What do you mean if? Arya already told us she loved you.”

Gendry’s stomach fluttered. 

“Whose us?”

“Me, Jon and…” Rickon stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened, “Oh, you know, your grace I really must be going. I’m very late.”

Rickon began to turn away but Gendry was not going to let him go so easily until he was sure he heard right. 

“Rickon,” Gendry stepped in front of him, bending slightly so their eyes were level. “Your sister said she loved me?”

“Yeah, but you know she loved lots of things.” Rickon went on and began taking quick steps backward. “Nymeria, horses. I love lots of things too.”

“Rickon,” Gendry tried to use his stern voice but it obviously failed as Rickon continued to make his rambling escape. 

“Like lemon cakes, for example, you really should have one, they’re still there in the kitchen. I have to go, your high graceness.”

With that, the youngest Stark turned away from him completely and took down the hall. Gendry sighed but made no effort to go after him. 

He stood in the hall for a moment collecting himself, taking in what Rickon had just said. 

A smile began to spread over his face as the news sunk in. 

“She loves me.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finds out Rickon talked to Gendry.

“You what,” Arya growled. Her lips curled in a snarl and her fierce stare cut through like Valyrian steel.

Rickon’s eyes bulged and Shaggydog whimpered behind him. “It just came out. I-I didn’t mean it.”

“You little shit, I am going to toss you into a pile of dung.” Before Arya could grab her little brother, Robb caught her mid-air.

“Arya, stop,” he grunted struggling to keep hold of her as she squirmed.

“He swore,” she snarled.

“There’s nothing you can do about it now,” Robb grunted as she squirmed in his arms. “Rickon run!”

The young boy took off out the door followed by Shaggydog. Jon quickly shut the door after him and latched it. Robb released Arya who found her way to the nearest table and slumped down, head in her hands.

“I am humiliated,” she groaned.

Robb took the seat next to her. “How? The Prince is in love with you and now he knows you love him back, Rickon did the work for you.”

“Would you want to hear a girl loved you from the girl or the girl’s little brother?”

“There’s nothing you can do about it now. Just go talk to Gendry and settle everything.”

“You’re right,”

“He mentioned he would be in the forge today,”

Arya nodded. She took a few deep breaths to gather her courage and then rose to her feet. She crossed the room, smoothing out her simple green dress.

“Good luck,” Bran said from his spot in the corner. Arya gave him a small smile as she passed.

She made her way down to the forge. She found herself at the entrance of the main corridor of the forge where the Mikken and his apprentices could be found. She smiled as one such apprentice bowed his head to her as she passed. She hated the idea of people bowing to her, but once Jory said that their bannerman, servants, and people bowed due to their respect for her and her family not because of her station. With that thought, Arya felt a sense of clarity. Arya wanted to be with Gendry because she loved him not because of the alliance with his family and the position of Queen that would come with it. And when she did become Queen, she would not just hold the title but would go beyond the duties it required to care for her people.

It seemed too silly to think of all this now, these ideas she had already had in her head but now the weight she had been feeling seemed to lift. With newfound confidence that filled her, Arya made her way into the main corridor.

He was impossible to miss. He stood by one of the fires, his sleeves rolled up, the ties at the collar of his shift were undone putting his broad chest on display. The sword he held was still burning at the end as he carefully shifted from the fire to a bail of water. He slowly lowered the sword in the water causing steam to rise and frame him. Arya’s lips parted as she watched him. She had found boys attractive over the years here and there, but her body never reacted the way it did to Gendry. The way her breathing quickened and heat pooled in her belly were new to her but not unwelcome.

As the metal cooled, Gendry glanced up around him. When his eyes landed on her, standing feet away and watching him with her heated gaze, they darkened with a lust that she recognized and shared.

“Can I help you, my lady?”

Arya pushed off the wall she had been leaning on, sauntering up to him. As her feet carried her closer, she tried to remember her purpose in searching for him in the first place

“I heard you talked to my brother,” she started.

“Which one?” He asked, dropping his gaze, focused on the sword once more. Arya stepped to the side as he brought it out of the water, swinging it to test the balance. The haze she was in began to clear.

“Rickon,”

“Oh, yes. I talked to him yesterday.”

Arya waited. Was he not going to mention it? Was he not going to confess that he knew everything about how she felt about him? Did he care? Had she and everyone else been wrong about his feelings for her?

“What did you two talk about?” She asked through gritted teeth.

“Lemon cakes,”

Arya huffed. This was by far the most infuriating man she had ever known.

“Gendry Baratheon, you are the stupidest person who ever lived,”

With a growl, Arya turned on her heel and stomped out of the forge with Gendry on her heels.

“Arya, what are you on about?”

“You know exactly what I’m on about, stupid. I know Rickon told you that I’m in love with you,” She shouted, waving her arm about.

“Alright,” Gendry replied.

Arya whirled around then. “Alright? Alright? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Gendry sighed, placing his hands on his hips.

“Because I wanted you to tell me in your own way.”

Arya scoffed, “Well, I’m in love with you, there.”

“I love you, too.”

The words struck her to her core but she wasn’t ready to give in.

“Alright,”

“Alright,”

Arya raised her eyebrow, “When are you going to ask me to marry you then?”

“I was going to wait for more of a romantic moment.”

Arya looked around at where they stood behind the forge. Icicles hung from the roof, snow lightly rained down on them, covering the ground.

“Snow can be romantic,” she suggested. Gendry tossed his head back with an incredulous laugh. He looked back at her, shaking his head with an amused expression. Arya gestured to indicate she was waiting.

“Fine then,” Gendry knelt on one knee. “Arya, will you marry-“

“Yes,” Arya threw her arms around him.

“You’re mad,” Gendry laughed. “This is not what I had in mind.”

“It’ll work, though.” She said, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes.

Gendry pushed a strand of her hair away, caressing her face, “I love you, Arya.”

“I love you, too.” She smiled.

Their lips met as the snow began to fall harder around them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry are betrothed. Cersei requests Arya have tea with her.

The King’s boisterous laughter echoed throughout the halls of Winterfell when Arya and Gendry announced they wanted to be betrothed. Ned had walked around his desk slowly while Robert rushed over to his son, embracing him and patting him on the back. Ned regarded his daughter. He asked her a silent question. She gave him her sweet smile with her pleading eyes that always melted his heart. Ned nodded his approval. He cradled the back of her head and kissed her hair.

“My darling girl,” the King reached for her hand. “You’ve made my son very happy. King’s Landing will be brighter with such a Northern jewel.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Come on, Ned,” The King wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “We need to celebrate, a feast tonight,” he announced.

Arya and Gendry left the room first, hands entwined. Ned followed with Robert, watching as the young couple walked down the hall.

Please, he sent a prayer to the Old Gods. Please watch over her. Let her be happy.

Arya laughed at something Gendry said then Jon turned the corner. Ned felt Robert stiffen beside him. He watched from the corner of his eye as the King’s face grew pale. Down the hall, his daughter clearly shared the news with her brother. Jon gave one of his rare grins, he shook Gendry’s hand and gave Arya a hug.

“They’re close,” Robert muttered. Ned nodded, his thoughts shifting from his favorite daughter to his favorite son.

* * *

The feast was scheduled to be held at sundown. Arya’s mother had been forcing her to try on dresses.

“Are these acorns?” Arya picked at the neckline of the dress her mother held in front of her were a dozen little brown oddly shaped ornaments lined the hem.

“It’s a lovely dress,” her mother insisted.

“It’s awful. I’ll look like a tree.”

“Fine, fine.” Her mother lowered the dress. Arya turned to smooth out the skirt of the yellow dress she currently wore. Catelyn rushed behind her suddenly, gathering Arya in her arms. “Oh, my sweet girl.”

“Seven hells, mother. “Arya grunted as her mother pressed on her ribs. She was a horrid little wildling any other day but when it came to her betrothal, she was a sweet girl. Arya rolled her eyes at her mother.

They heard a light knock at the door and Arya shrugged her mother off.

“Come in,”

A young chambermaid by the name of Sara entered the room with a curtsey.

“Pardon, my ladies. The Queen requests the presence of Lady Arya in her chambers.”

Her mother quickly fluttered about once more.

“Quickly, change into this one,” She held up a plain crimson dress of satin.

Arya shook her head, “I don’t like red.”

“You’ll be related to Lannisters soon, you’d better get used to it.”

Relenting, Arya quickly changed to stuff herself in the red dress and headed to the guest chambers.

The closer Arya got the more nerves began to settle within her. She had been able to push aside what she and Bran knew about Cersei and Jamie to build her relationship with Gendry. But to have to interact with the Queen by herself? That was something Arya did not know if she was ready for.

She reached the open landing before the actual guests’ rooms where the Queen sat at a small table.

“Your grace, “Arya announced herself with a bow. The Queen looked up at her with a disturbingly serene smile.

“Hello, little wolf,” she gestured to the seat across from where she was. “Come, sit, and have tea with me.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Arya walked over to the table and sat down with as much grace as she could muster.

Now you see why you chase cats and crows, Syrio would have said. The Queen handed her a cup filled with steaming tea.

“We haven’t had much time together and now I hear we’re to be family.”

“Yes, your grace. “Arya nodded her head putting on her version of a demure smile.

“My son is besotted with you; you’ve made him very happy.”

“He’s made me quite happy as well.”

“Good. He is a good boy, man. It seems just moments ago I held him as a babe in my arms.” The Queen regarded her. “Even though he’s a man grown, I am still very protective of him.”

That was a threat of some kind, Arya was sure.

“I understand, your grace.”

“You don’t. But you will one day when you have children.” Cersei took a sip of tea, “My son tells you he made you spear,”

“Yes, your grace. He is very talented,” Arya said honestly.

“It’s definitely a source of pride, “A fond smile took over the Queen’s face whenever she talked of her son. “I’ve seen you in the training yard in passing. I’m no expert but it appears your quite good.”

“I try to be,”

“If only I had been given a sword in my youth,” The Queen sighed wistfully.

“Why didn’t you just take one?” Arya could practically hear her mother’s gasp of shock and following apologies from across the castle at Arya’s words.

The Queen did not falter.

“That is a very good question,” she took another sip of her tea. “You will find, little wolf, women have to adapt. Your father is a very gracious, open-minded man, my father was not. I had to find my own way to fight. You can settle things with a sword, but women have other weapons we can use to our advantage. You’re young, you’ll learn about them in time.”

Arya had nothing to say to that. She looked into the depths of her tea feeling uncomfortable. Was it the prejudgment she held of the Queen or was it because the Queen in some way made sense? Had Arya not adapted somewhat in her years putting her love and grace for movement and mind for numbers and problem solving to good use.

“I think we’ll get along, She-wolf of Winterfell. You have a spark I can admire, unlike your sister.”

Arya looked back up at the Queen.

“You’ve met my sister?”

“Yes, poor girl.” The Queen let out a disinterested sigh. “We’ll have to start planning your wedding. Your mother and I can begin to help you tomorrow morning.”

* * *

Jon had been in the training yard as always when Jory told him his father needed to speak with him. He was sure it was to tell him that Lady Catelyn wanted him to stay away from the feast that evening. All these years, he had done everything to respect her and his siblings and she still wouldn’t budge. Jon would normally just bow his head and bear it but damn it this was his baby sister’s betrothal. He might never see her again and he was going to spend what little time they had left celebrating.

Prepared to stand up to his father and stepmother for the first time in his eighteen name days, Jon walked into his father’s solar with his head held high.

His father sat alone at his desk, a deep crease between his brows.

“Father, you called for me.”

His father continued to stare straight ahead, through Jon. He then buried his face in his hands, his shoulders sagging.

“Father,” Jon tilted his head in concern. Ned uncovered his face and sat back in his chair with a resigned sigh.

“Close the door, Jon.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finds out the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you for all your lovely comments, keep 'em coming. I start this chapter with a little Gendrya scene that will slightly allude to a small plotline in the future and of course, Jon finds out the truth. I changed up R+L=J just a bit, going with some theories I remember hearing that I wish they had touched on in the shows but...whatever. Enjoy this chapter and let me know if there is anything you want to see.

Gendry held Arya’s hand in his as they strolled comfortably around the castle grounds. He found her leaving his mother’s chambers after tea, looking thoughtful.

“How did it go,” he asked.

“She mentioned my sister,”

“Your sister?” Gendry’s brow furrowed.

“Yes, I thought you said you never met her.” Arya looked at him curiously. Gendry tried to think back for a moment, struggling to conjure up an image that matched the description Arya had given of her sister.

“I haven’t. I do remember someone mentioning she came to King’s Landing once with her husband, but her visit was brief. I don’t even recall why they were there. What did my mother say about her?”

“Nothing, I just found it odd. Other than that, your mother was…welcoming.”

That sounded hesitant, Gendry thought. He had been worried about how his mother would treat Arya, but he had not put much thought to it. His mother was loving and gracious to him and his siblings but to another outside of the family, she could appear…cold.

“I know she can be…protective. She doesn’t always go about things the right way, but she really does care about her family, in her own way.”

Arya smiled gently at him, “It was fine, really. We spoke briefly. She talked about starting wedding planning tomorrow and that was it.”

“Wedding planning, I bet you're excited.” Gendry teased.

Arya rolled her eyes. “Thrilled.”

“There are many times we will both want to rip out our hair but it’s only a small part and at the end of it we’ll be together.”

“If we’re alive by then,”

“How would we die planning a wedding?”

“You haven’t seen my mother and I arguing,” Arya sighed. “The best we can hope for is I’ll end up a cripple.”

“Hmm, well if you’re cripple, I could carry you around everywhere like this,” Gendry turned and quickly threw Arya over his shoulder. She squealed, hitting his back. He carried her laughing as she squirmed playfully.

“Arya,”

Gendry turned with Arya still on his shoulder to see Bran jogging up to them. Gendry set Arya down as he approached. She smacked his chest before turning to her brother.

“What is it, Bran?”

“Where is Jon, he said he’d train with me today?”

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know, I only saw him this morning.”

Bran’s shoulder sagged. Gendry patted his shoulder.

“I’ll train with you, ever go up against a hammer?”

Bran shook his head excitedly and Gendry and Arya led him to the training yard.

* * *

Jon sat across from his father in his solar, waiting. Lord Stark’s hands were clasped tightly in front of his face, blocking his mouth. He then lowered his hands and leaned forward.

“Nineteen years ago, the tourney of Harrenhall was held but it was a ploy. Rhaegar Targaryen knew his father was mad and could snap at any moment. He had orchestrated the tourney to gather all the lords of Westeros to discuss overthrowing his father. At the same time, Rhaegar met my sister Lyanna and they fell in love. Lyanna as you know was meant to marry Robert, but she did not want to. She had never loved Robert and thought she would… She wasn’t happy. Rhaegar and Elia Martell had already planned on annulling their marriage as soon as the Mad King was dealt with. Their marriage was forced but they kept up pretenses for everyone because the Mad King was watching. They were friends but both their heart belonged to others.”

Jon listened to his father with confusion. This was not the history he was taught. “If that were the case, how-”

“Lyanna became pregnant” his father continued “and Rhaegar took her to the Tower of Joy to hide her away until things could be dealt with. Somehow the story became the one you know, of kidnapping and rape. Everything went to hell. I only found out the truth because- “Lord Stark paused, shaking his head as if fighting a thought. A feeling of dread filled Jon.

“When I went to the Tower of Joy to find Lyanna, she was near death. The chaos of the Rebellion had torn her apart, but she stayed hidden because she feared what Robert would do if he saw her pregnant with another man’s child. She had just given birth when I found her, and she had enough strength left to make me promise to protect her child from Robert and it has been a promise I have kept for eighteen years.”

“Why?” Jon gasped out, feeling a weight come down on him as the words Ned spoke settled in his head.

“Jon, I raised you. I am the one who chased away monsters whenever they haunted your dreams. I have taught you and protected you. I have loved you with everything I have.” Ned gave Jon a mournful smile, “But you are not born from me.”

It was like a punch to the gut.

“I’m not a Stark? I’m not your- “Jon’s throat closed up. He stood, shaking his head. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. Jon looked at Lord Stark, pleading with him.

“Jon,” Ned rose from his seat. He walked around the table to stand beside Jon.

“Why are you telling me this? Why did you tell me? I did not need to know. Father- “Jon choked on the word. The man before him was not his father, not truly. Jon turned away. Ned stopped him, placing a hand on either side of his face.

“What I’ve told you is the story of how the Gods brought you to me. You are still my son, do you understand? You are still mine.”

The shock of everything hit Jon like a gust of sharp Northern wind. He struggled for breath as he blinked away the sting of tears.

“Jon, listen to me. The King knows. You needed to know in case.”

“The King wants me dead, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything, but I can see it clearly on his face he knows.”

Jon regained his breathing slowly.

“What do you want me to do? “he asked.

“You need to keep your head down around the King, don’t attract attention.”

Jon’s lip curled, “I am tired of keeping my head down. I’ve been doing it this entire visit. I’ve done it all my life because Lady Stark couldn’t stand the sight of me and now, I know it all could have been avoided because I’m someone else’s, bastard.”

“You’re not a bastard Jon.” Ned corrected, “Rhaegar and Elia annulled their marriage and he and Lyanna were married in secret when they ran to the Tower. You are true born and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.”

“I don’t want it.” Jon shook his head weakly.

“I know,” Ned regarded him regretfully.

“I don’t want any of this,”

Jon turned away and rushed for the door. He threw it open and stomped down the hall, ignoring Lord Stark’s calls.


	14. Chapter 14

The feast was grander than anything Winterfell had seen in years. Even the welcoming feast had not the same level of energy that filled the Grand Hall currently. The room was bright with sculptures and décor Arya had never seen before. There was more music, more dancing, more wine.

“My daughter has such a fiery spirit; how could the Prince not fall in love. She has such a strong mind, she is so talented and special I knew she was destined for greatness,” Lady Catelyn gushed to anyone who was near. Arya rolled her eyes. _Sure,_ she thought, _any other day I’m a wretched little urchin but when I manage to get engaged to the Prince of Westeros, I am talented and special._

She had been dancing with Gendry, but they had parted so he could dance with first his sister than his mother. She had been pulled by the arm so that her mother, who was a few cups in, could show her off as her daughter as the future Queen of Westeros. Arya glanced around the room, sipping on her wine. Her eyes landed on Jon brooding in a dark corner. She had been glad to learn that Jon had been allowed to attend the feast. But he had kept his distance and though many would say Jon was always prone to brooding, Arya could see the darkness that hovered over him.

She walked away from her mother’s prattling and began to cross the room. When she reached Jon, he didn’t take notice of her. He just continued to stare at the ground.

“Jon,” she reached for him. The tips of her fingers barely grazed his arm when he jerked back as if he had been burned. His shoulders relaxed when his eyes settled on her.

“Sorry, I was distracted.”

Arya nodded. “I can see that. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Arya raised her brow. “Jon, you can’t lie to me.”

“I just, I’m tired.”

Arya studied him for a moment. His jaw was set in that stubborn way she had seen a few times before. She knew when Jon was in this mood it did not matter what she tried he wouldn’t tell her until he was ready.

“Fine, don’t tell me. But you’re going to dance with me.”

Jon sunk further into the corner, shaking his head. “Arya, I don’t dance.”

Arya tugged on his arm.

“Come on, I’m getting married. Dance with me, big brother.”

Jon relented with a sigh and allowed her to lead him out. They found their way to the center of the dance floor and found their place in the dance, swaying side to side with the delicate yet cheerful melody.

Arya smiled triumphantly at Jon. He shook his head at her, but a small smile found its way on to his face.

“Are you happy?” he asked her.

“I am. It is scary and exciting. Mother’s getting on my nerves, but I am happy.”

“Good,” Jon spun her around.

“I do have a question for you,”

“What’s that?”

“Will you come to King’s Landing?” Arya felt Jon slow in his steps. “I could ask Gendry to set you up with a knight of the King’s Guard. By the time Gendry and I step up, you could be a knight yourself.”

Jon sighed. His mouth opened but no sound came out.

He finally shook his head.

“Arya, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His melancholic expression caused Arya to worry about him once more.

“Why? Come on, please. I know you wanted to go to the Night’s Watch but please. If you become a knight, I could make you part of my guard.”

Jon gave a mirthless chuckle. “Since when do you need me to protect you?”

“Not so much protect but keep me company.”

“You’ll have Gendry for that.”

“Yes, but he is the Crown Prince and then he will be King, and I don’t plan on sitting idle. I imagine there will be days where we hardly see each other. And it would be nice to have some family with me, someone I can trust not to keep secrets or tell me lies. Please, Jon.”

“I-I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you,” Arya smiled.

“That’s not a yes,” Jon corrected her.

Arya rolled her eyes.

“Ha, alright.”

* * *

“You’re glowing, sweet boy.” Gendry leaned into his mother cradling his cheek. Gendry had brought her to the dance floor to distract her from his father’s wandering eye.

“I am really happy, mother.”

His mother gave him a forced smile.

“She’s not too- “

“Mother, “Gendry warned.

“I can’t help it; a mother is allowed to worry.”

“I love you for it, but please don’t try anything, be kind to Arya.”

“What would I try?”

Gendry thought back to the times he found out about his mother’s interference in his life over the years.

“I seem to recall when you overheard that some Dornish ladies had planned to sneak into my rooms and compromise me. Somehow she ended up in Joffrey’s clutches.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his mother denied the allegation.

“Mother,” Gendry deadpanned.

“It just goes to show the girl was a whore who wanted to sleep her way through the royal family for power,” she shrugged. Gendry sighed. His mother meant well. She always wanted to protect her children but sometimes it seemed to do more harm than good. Gendry looked over her shoulder to see Joffrey sneaking off to the shadows with a brunette.

“It’s not me you need to worry about,” he grumbled, hoping the girl was the strong sort. Cersei looked back just as Joffrey and the girl were enveloped by the dark. She pursed her lips.

“I love your brother but he’s a lost cause,”

“He reminds me of Uncle Jaime sometimes,” Gendry mused, finding his uncle leaning against a wall behind the head table. His mother looked back at him with wide eyes.

“In what way,”

“I don’t know, the same smile. They have an arrogant glint in their eyes. They mean well but it never quite comes out right.”

“Very intuitive of you,” he noticed his mother’s shoulder sag slightly. “I’ll let you dance with your bride.”

His mother stepped away, gesturing to where Arya had been dancing with Jon moments ago. Now Arya stood watching as Jon walked away. Casting a last grateful glance at his mother, Gendry turned and reached out for Arya’s hand. Once he grasped it he pulled her into his arms, reveling in the way she naturally melted into him.

“Hello,” he smirked down at her.

“Hello,” she sighed, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“How are you?”

“Good, I just talked to Jon.”

“Did you ask him?”

Arya and Gendry had been discussing earlier that day that they would ask Jon to come down to King’s Landing.

Arya nodded. “Yes, and he’ll come.”

“So, he agreed pretty easily.”

Arya shrugged. “Well, he said he’ll think about it, but when it comes to me that means yes.”

Gendry laughed.

“So sure, of yourself, my lady?”

“I know my brother.” Once the words left Arya’s mouth, she took on a solemn expression.

“What is it? “Gendry asked.

“Something is bothering him.”

“What do you think it is?”

“It could be my mother. He is not usually invited to these things so maybe she said something to him. I don’t know.”

“Well, there will be a place for him in King’s Landing.”

“Thank you for coming up with the idea,”

Gendry shrugged.

“It wasn’t even a thought. Jon is the best fighter I have ever seen, and he is as loyal and honest as they come. We could use more men like him and your brothers.”

“Not all my brothers.” Arya gestured her head off to the side. “If there were more like Rickon we’d all be savages.”

Gendry looked for the youngest Stark to find him viciously attacking the pie that was meant for later.

“Maybe we can take him down to King’s Landing as well. He suggested we have lemon cakes at the wedding and its only right that he be there to enjoy them.”

Arya bit her lip, her brow furrowing.

“What?” Gendry questioned.

“The wedding. I never was one to picture my wedding but now it just feels strange knowing it won’t be in the Godswood.”

Gendry nodded in understanding. He thought over what the next few weeks would be like. Hectic. Now that they were betrothed, his family would be in a hurry to make arrangements and begin traveling back south. There was no real reason to rush other than his father being impatient, and Gendry would be lying if he said he could wait much longer to be married to Arya. With all that, there may not be enough time to plan two weddings that were at the scale expected of royals.

An idea began to form in his head.

“I think we can manage something,” he said more to himself than Arya.

“Like what,”

Gendry gave Arya a teasing smile, “Would you allow me to surprise you, my lady?”

“How is it a surprise if I’m the one who inspired you to do it? I think I can take a guess of what you’re planning.”

“Still, I’d prefer to leave you guessing.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Oh, Rickon!”

Arya and Gendry turned and began to laugh along with the rest of the guests as Lady Stark dragged the youngest Stark away from the pie, crumbs covering his face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry finally get to spend some time together and news comes from the East and beyond the Wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned to post this on Friday. Then Friday turned to Saturday and then Sunday morning to Sunday evening. Better late than never.   
> I hope y'all enjoy.

"I have something for you."

Gendry announced, pulling Arya into the forge. The days following their betrothal celebration had been hectic. Arya had been thrust into wedding planning with her mother and the Queen, which mainly consisted of her nodding along as the other two women chattered on about Gods know what. Gendry had been sitting in on meetings with their fathers and the entire Royal family, which now would include Arya, were preparing for the trip down to King’s Landing. With all that, Arya had barely seen Gendry, only able to steal a few passionate moments here and there. That morning he managed to steal her away from Septa Mordane. He took her by the hand and led her out to the forge.

“What is it?” She asked, excitedly.

“Consider it an early wedding gift, “He said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He released her hand. He turned away to one of the work-stations Arya noticed he seemed to favor. “Not my best work, I admit, but I can always add to them later if you’d like.” He turned back to her holding a cloth bundle. Arya closed the distance between them. She unwrapped the cloth to reveal two plain, sleek daggers.

“I remember you said your throwing daggers were becoming dull, so I figured I’d just make new ones.”

Arya picked them up, flipping them over, testing the balance.

“I love them. Thank you.” She covered the daggers back up and placed them on the table nearby.

“I’m glad you like them,” Gendry smiled.

“I definitely do,” Arya braced her hands on his broad shoulders, rising to the tips of her toes she pressed her lips against his. Gendry wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her up slightly. Arya pressed her chest to his. It felt like it had been so long since they had been able to hold each other like this, though it had only been a matter of days. Since her first kiss with Gendry, it felt like a fire had been lit inside her body and she had begun to yearn for the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his lips. She knew of such feelings that started deep within from overhearing her brother’s conversations. But she never quite understood what they meant until now. The heat and the wetness that would gather between her legs late at night when thoughts of Gendry working in the forge or training with his war hammer crossed her mind was completely unexpected and would keep her from sleep until her mind went elsewhere. Those feelings were only more intense when they had moments like this.

“Arya,” Gendry murmured against her lips.

“Hmm,” she sighed, running a hand along his chest, then lower.

Gendry pulled away, loosening his grip on her but Arya just clutched on to his jerkin bringing him closer. “Anyone can walk in,” Gendry argued.

“We’re betrothed, it’s okay,”

“A quick, chaste kiss perhaps but anything else is… testing things,”

Arya scoffed.

“Northerners are not so inclined to gossip like those you’re probably used to,”

“Maybe not but I respect your father and for as long as I am under his roof, I don’t plan on doing anything that might insult him, especially ravaging his daughter in the forge before we are wed.”

Arya rolled her eyes. Gendry could be bold with her. He could sweep her off her feet, literally, and kiss her until every bone in her body went soft. But then his honor would kick in and he would turn back to the chaste, respectful Prince. His sense of honor and respectfulness was one of her favorite things about him but damn it if it meant she couldn’t kiss the man she loved the way she wanted.

“What about after we’re wed?”

Gendry’s tongue ran along his bottom lip quickly before he drew her close once more. The bold side was back.

“After we’re wed nothing will stop me from taking you anywhere, I want.”

Arya bit her lip at the almost feral look that crossed his face now. “Even the Iron Throne?”

Gendry’s blue eyes darkened almost to black.

“Especially that damned throne,”

Arya rose to her toes once more, tilting her head up-

“Your father said I might find you here,”

Arya whirled around in embarrassment and surprise at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Uncle Benjen,”

There he stood in the entryway of the forge, Uncle Benjen, dressed head to toe in black. Arya turned back to look at Gendry, hoping they didn’t look too disheveled, but when her eyes landed on him, he had already placed that sweet, unassuming smile on his face.

Damn him, how does he do that?

“I do hope I am not interrupting anything,” Benjen walked further in, a knowing smirk.

“You were but I’ll forgive you,” Arya said, pushing away the passionate fog she had just been in. “Uncle this is Gendry my betrothed.”

Her uncle bowed to Gendry as she introduced them. “Prince Gendry, I am Benjen Stark, your grace.”

“Lord Stark, it is an honor.”

“Oh, I’m no lord. I’m with the Night’s Watch and it is I who am honored. Any man able to tame this wildling has surely been given gifts by all the Gods that are beyond comprehension.”

Gendry laughed.

“I don’t know if the word tame can ever be used to describe, Lady Arya, nor should it. All I know is I am a very lucky man.”

“What brings you here, Uncle?” Arya asked. Uncle Benjen sighed seriously.

“I needed to speak with your father.” He looked to Gendry. “He is now meeting with the King, your presence was requested, your grace.”

Gendry nodded, “I’ll go now then, it was a pleasure, sir.” He gave Arya a small smile and walked out of the forge.

Arya looked to her uncle.

“What did you need to speak with my father about?”

* * *

Ned rubbed his eyes. His younger brother Benjen had just arrived to tell him about the wildlings they captured and whispers of the White Walkers return. On top of that, the King received a raven from his informant in the East that the Targaryen girl had been married off to a Khal who apparently led one of the largest Dothraki khalasars. They now sat in his solar, the King, Prince Gendry, Robb, Jory, and a few members of the King’s guard including Jamie Lannister to discuss these recent events.

“They’re all coming. Damn Targaryens from the East and wildlings and monsters from the North. They’re coming sooner than we think, Ned. They’re going to take everything from us.”

“Robert, we don’t know everything yet.”

“No,” the King shook his head, slamming his fist on the table. “I’ve been feeling it in my bones, Ned. A war is coming. I’ve felt it for some time but damn it they’re all coming at once.”

“The Targaryens are nothing but entitled children if nothing else, easily dealt with.” Ned attempted to reason, leaving out the fact that through the young girl’s marriage the Targaryens would now have the beginnings of an army. He gestured to Prince Gendry who sat quietly across the table. “Your line is strengthened through Gendry and my daughter’s marriage, the Targaryens are of little consequence.”

“And the wildlings, the White Walkers? You said yourself you trust your brother’s words above all else.”

Ned sighed. It had been happening for the past year or so, wildlings attempting to make it over the wall, and no one knew why. Benjen had said they had captured a small group of them and when interrogated, they went on and on about how the White Walkers had returned. But there was no solid proof, Benjen had said, “other than the fear in their eyes.”

“I know but even the clearest-headed of men can be mistaken.”

“So, what are you suggesting then?”

“All we know is that the wildlings are gathering in numbers and plotting to cross over the Wall. We need to find out for certain, why. We can send an ambassador or two beyond the wall with my brother and his men to find out what is happening once and for all.”

“Fine and the Targaryens?”

“Lord Stark was right about my marriage to the Lady Arya, father. If we could be married sooner rather than later, it would sooner cement our alliance and our line. Besides, Arya had mentioned a desire of having a Northern ceremony. It would be a nice surprise to have one before we depart for King’s Landing.”

The King sighed, “Jamie.”

“Yes, your grace,” the Queen’s brother stepped forward.

“You’ll be going beyond the wall when Lord Stark’s brother departs.”

The Knight hesitated for a moment before answering, “Yes, your grace.”

“Send whoever else you want, Ned.”

“I can go, father,” Robb spoke up, eagerly. Ned regarded his son.

“I’ll think about it,”

Robb’s expression fell but he nodded.

The King looked to his son, “You and the girl want a Northern wedding, you’ll get one. You’ll be a married man in three days; we leave for King’s Landing the next morning.”


End file.
